


Most Ardently

by captaingriffin



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alina is clueless, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Good Aleksander, Good Bros Nikolai and Genya, Minor Mal Oretsev/Alina Starkov, Not Mal Oretsev Friendly, Romance, Slow Burn, Victorian era, YES it's a Pride and Prejudice AU, okay aleks acts like an asshole but he's just in love, that's all you need to know really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaingriffin/pseuds/captaingriffin
Summary: Aleksander Morozova is handsome, rich, and not used to having romantic feelings for anybody, let alone mouthy orphan girls who are annoyingly endearing. Alina Starkov is quite comfortable being alone, and doesn't have much taste for the conceited, rude, and insensitive Mr. Morozova, which she makes sure to tell him constantly.It takes them a while, but they fall in love anyway.A Darklina Pride & Prejudice AU.
Relationships: David Kostyk/Genya Safin, Genya Safin & Alina Starkov, Nikolai Lantsov & Alina Starkov, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov
Comments: 21
Kudos: 117





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> So many thank yous to Samah for offering ideas, encouragement, and advice throughout the process of my writing this! Your screaming about every Aleksander and Alina interaction kept me going.
> 
> Disclaimer: All rights to Pride & Prejudice go of course to Jane Austen, and the writers of the 2005 film. I did lift a few lines from there, but every part of the plot that I crafted specifically for this fic belongs to me. Grishaverse characters belong to the great Leigh Bardugo.

As the early morning sun rose over the house, reflecting bright beams of light across the lake that caused Alina to squint and turn away to look out over the fields instead, she was once again struck by how lucky she felt to be where she was. The house itself, stone cobbled together with ivy, and the beautiful grounds that surrounded it never ceased to fill her heart completely. She hadn’t been raised here, like Genya, but she’d grown to love it in the years since Mr. and Mrs. Safin had taken her in. In Alina’s mind, there was nothing that could put one at more peace than an early morning stroll through the grass, though the bottom few inches of her dress would inevitably be stained with dewdrops afterward.

There had been much sorrow in Alina’s life since the deaths of her parents, but becoming a charge of the Safins had brought her much joy, too. The easy kindness they showed her, although it was not their duty to take in the young, poor, loud, and skinny friend of their daughter’s, they did it anyway, and happily.

Genya’s excitement could hardly be restrained, either. Under the cover of night, when the two were curled up in their bed in their nightgowns and whispering secrets to each other, Genya was sensitive to Alina’s sadness and always offered an open and non-judgemental ear. But among society, she eagerly introduced Alina to strangers as “my sister” and taught her just what it meant to be a proper lady. It was true, though, that Alina would never truly be one-- the Safins could give her a home, but they could not give her an inheritance. Alina was destined to end her days wearing the same rags she ran around as a little girl in, no matter if she spent her time in the meanwhile trying to convince herself and others she was more than that.

It was a depressing thought, and not one fit for Alina’s mind when she was in her happy place: right here, sitting beside the lake, a novel in hand and breakfast waiting for her whenever she chose to finally journey inside. She took a deep, steadying breath, and stood, brushing off the back of her dress where weeds had clung to the fabric. It was one of Genya’s old garments that she’d fitted for Alina to wear, just another show of hospitality that Alina would never be able to repay.

As she strode back to the house, Alina took a moment to grab some of the linens that she had left hanging to dry in the yard the day before, and incidentally caught the end of the conversation Mr. and Mrs. Safin were having just inside. 

“My dear, did you hear that Netherfield Park is let at last?” Mrs. Safin said, referring to the grandest house in town, just up the road. It had stood empty for years, with nobody rich enough to live in, but had evidently finally found a resident.

“Who’s renting Netherfield?” Alina whispered as she crept in the back door and saw Genya huddled outside her father’s office, listening in just like Alina had been. There was no point in telling Genya not to eavesdrop; she caught the best gossip this way and was practiced in the art of not getting caught.

“A woman, if you can believe it!” Genya replied, pulling Alina away from the door and into the kitchen. She began to busy herself making up a cup of tea, while Alina set down the linens and grabbed for a loaf of bread, her morning walk leaving her starved. “Miss Nazyalensky. Unmarried, rich, and bringing two men with her. Acquaintances. One can only hope they might be single.”

“Have you run through all the men in town already?” Alina laughed, stealing the fresh cup of tea from Genya’s hands and leaving her to make up a new one. Genya was too dreamy-eyed to be bothered by this.

“Oh, they’re all the same,” Genya said. “Not wealthy enough to be as completely boring as they are.”

“Is that why you’re still unmarried at your age, then?” Alina joked.

“At my age!” Genya gasped. “And what’s that supposed to mean, you wench? One might do well to remember that you are unmarried, too.”

“But by choice,” Alina remarked. “I have no purpose in marrying, if not for love. I have no status that I wish to rise, or inheritance to offer. And I do not love anyone.”

“For now,” Genya sighed. “Two men accompanying Miss Nazyalensky. One for me, one for you.”

“If all the other women in Ravka did not exist!” Alina snickered.

“What’s that?” Mr. Safin asked as he billowed into the kitchen, followed closely by his wife.

“Do you know of the men Miss Nazyalensky has brought to Netherfield, papa?” Genya immediately replied, not caring to disguise her hope.

“It happens that I do,” he said, sighing. “I visited yesterday evening, for tea. Fine young men, both of them.” It seemed that he was done speaking, sitting down at the head of the table and grabbing the newspaper that lay waiting for him there.

Genya looked as though he had personally wronged her by not offering more details. “And? What are they like? Perhaps looking for a wife?”

“I should hope so,” Mrs. Safin remarked. “The only sensible purpose in their traveling with Miss Nazyalensky would be for her to make introductions.”

“Is it so scandalous for a woman to have male friends?” Alina asked, half under her breath.

“Just one of the many plights of society, dear,” Mrs. Safin said. “You might know that if you engaged a bit more.”

Alina knew that Mrs. Safin meant well, but it still came off as mocking. Mrs. Safin would never say as much, she was far too kind, but she wished that Alina would be a bit more like Genya, more receptive to men’s attention and the potentiality of marriage. Instead of replying, Alina sipped her tea.

“Genya, my darling, they are both agreeable men, though I must say one is a fair bit poorer than the other, and seems to be more of an employee of Miss Nazyalensky’s than a friend. Thus I confess I hope you find Mr. Morozova more agreeable than he. Still, your happiness is always of the utmost importance to us,” Mr. Safin answered honestly. “My happiness would be that you might never marry.”

“Oh, papa!” Genya groaned. “Mr. Morozova, then? Is he handsome?”

Mr. Safin looked quite like he had swallowed a sugar cube whole, his bottom lip curling uncomfortably, and Alina stifled a laugh.

“Fine, answer this,” Genya moved on. “Will they be coming to the ball tomorrow?”

Mr. Safin sighed as though in great pain. “I believe so.”

The birds outside might have flown away after hearing Genya’s responding shriek. Alina, too, had she not been used to it by now. Alas, she was, and Genya’s excitement was so infectious that Alina found herself grinning just the same.

* * *

Alina sported an old gown of Genya’s yet again at the ball the next night, though there was no reason to feel shame about it, considering so many of the other guests were common farmers and artisans themselves. The Safins were in truth one of the richest families in town, but that didn’t count for much against such competition. They had no sons, just Genya, and that meant an advantageous marriage was practically a necessity for her if she wanted her family to be able to keep their estate. Alina, however, had no similar requirements for her. How freeing it was to be poor.

Anxiously watching the door and awaiting Miss Nazyalensky’s arrival, Genya made small talk with passing folks but kept mostly to the outskirts of the party. This was unlike her, but not so unlike Alina, who was quite comfortable to be left alone throughout the night. Still, she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to feel anticipation too. The rumors that had built up of the two men left her wondering what they would truly be like. Perhaps Mr. Morozova, the one Mr. Safin had mentioned, would fall madly in love with Genya, and they would be quite happy together.

The entire room practically froze as the door finally opened. Miss Nazyalensky and her companions were late, the ball having already fully begun with people indulging in dancing and drinking, but it was as if they had all been simply biding their time until the newcomers’ arrival. The band even stopped playing-- every soul in the room turned to look.

Miss Zoya Nazyalensky had an air of arrogance about her, her chin up and her eyes narrowed, but it was not unfounded. She was far and away the most beautiful woman in the room and apparently knew so. She wore the latest fashion, and glittering jewels, her hair hanging silkily off her neck, unlike Alina, whose hair was perpetually frizzy, and Genya, who sported a tight up-do.

To her left, standing a step behind her as though inferior, was a small-statured man whose hair fell messily into his eyes. He seemed almost uncomfortable with the number of eyes leveled upon him, but his expression remained calm. Mild-mannered. This was certainly the poorer of the two men, as Mr. Safin had mentioned.

The other, on Miss Nazyalensky’s right, embodied the word _regal_. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his face was cold. His eyes were so dark it was almost unsettling, as was his hair and the clearly-expensive kefta he adorned. A shiver ran through every woman in the room and their gaze landed upon him. Alina thought privately that he seemed a bit haughty, looking down upon them all, but not in a sense of superiority like Miss Nazyalensky, but rather disdain. Like he simply didn’t want to be there. Still, there was no denying that he was attractive, perhaps the most Alina had ever seen. Genya appeared to think so, too. Her hand tightened on Alina’s arm.

Alina’s eyes met Mr. Morozova’s, just for a moment as he surveyed the room, and she turned quickly to Genya, who was still a bit starstruck. It was sufficiently nerve-wracking to meet eyes with any stranger, especially a wealthy and handsome one.

“I suppose we’re a long way from Os Alta now, are we not, Mr. Morozova?” Miss Nazyalensky muttered the words, but the hall was so quiet that they all must have heard her. Perhaps she intended that.

Mr. Safin suddenly moved forward to greet them, and whatever spell had been cast on the crowd was broken. The music resumed, and Mr. Safin began to lead the newcomers around the room, introducing them to the best of town.

“Goodness,” Genya finally said. “He just looks as though he owns half of Os Alta, doesn’t he? Ten thousand a year. More, even.”

“He _looks_ as though he’s miserable,” Alina remarks. “I wonder if we’re all a bit too grubby for his tastes.”

“Oh, don’t judge the man too harshly yet, Alina. You’re quick. Maybe he just doesn’t care for meeting new people.”

“I think we’re about to find out,” Alina pointed to where Mr. Safin was now heading towards the girls’ hiding spot with the three guests. “Straighten your back, come on. Brilliant smile, now.”

“Genya! This is Miss Zoya Nazyalensky, Mr. Morozova, and Mr. David Kostyk. My daughter, Miss Genya Safin, and Alina Starkov,” Mr. Safin quickly introduced. As his gaze fell upon Genya, Mr. David Kostyk looked quite like a man seeing color in the world for the first time. Alina looked down at her feet to hide the small smile she couldn’t will away. She hoped that Genya would at least give the poor boy the time of day, if she could not marry him.  
Zoya and Morozova bowed their heads politely.

“Pleasure,” Zoya said. “Miss Safin, it appears that there is at least one person with some semblance of taste in this room. How lovely to meet you.”

Alina tried not to feel offended at the way Zoya’s eyes flitted right over her as she spoke to Genya. It probably wasn’t meant to be an insult, but it felt like one because Alina knew that standing next to Genya she never looked like much. She fisted her skirt nervously.

“You as well,” Genya said. “And thank you. I sewed this gown myself.”

This did not appear to be the answer Zoya desired to hear. Her mouth tightened. “Did you? Impressive.” The tone of her words was vaguely condescending.

Alina felt responsible to speak up, as the smile on Genya’s face fell ever so slightly. “Genya is the most talented seamstress in town. She fits all my clothes,” Alina said defensively, anger growing.

“What my sister means,” Genya cut in, replacing her smile with an ingenuine but much broader one, “is that I find much joy in sewing. It’s a skill every woman should have, don’t you think, being able to fix up clothes and things?”

“Your sister?” Zoya asked. Alina looked up for the first time since the group came over, and was startled to notice that Mr. Morozova was looking directly at her, and seemed as though he had been the entire time. Alina chastised herself silently for not being more respectful. As long as she lived in the Safin’s home, she had their reputation to uphold, and that did not include being rude to wealthy and esteemed guests.

“We took young Alina in when she was ten,” Mr. Safin explained. “She’s been in our care for many years now.”

“How quaint,” Zoya commented, attempting to exchange a sly look with Morozova, who ignored her completely and continued to stare at Alina like he was seeing straight through her soul. It was disconcerting, and she shifted on her feet under his watchful eye. She did not know why he was watching her in such a way, and she didn’t like it.

“The Safins have shown me many kindnesses,” Alina said carefully. “Genya is an extraordinary woman. I’m very lucky.”

Genya pinched her behind her back. Alina was evidently being too obvious. “You flatter me,” Genya laughed nervously, but Alina’s statement had succeeded in causing Morozova to finally turn away and examine Genya instead. He looked at Mr. Kostyk then, evidently having noticed the same open adoration that Alina had.

“Miss Starkov,” Morozova spoke for the first time.

“Oh, Alina, please.” It wasn’t exactly proper to be called by one’s given name out loud if not very familiar with the person, but Alina was not a lady, and did not like to be addressed as such.

“Alina,” Morozova allowed. “Shall we dance?”

“I’m sorry?” Alina asked, confused, sharing a small glance with Genya.

“May I have the honor of dancing with you?” he asked again, unperturbed.

Mr. Safin and Zoya both looked at Morozova incredulously. This was certainly not how anyone imagined this first introduction of the group going. Genya seemed a bit bereft, like her feet had been swept out from under her.

“David can keep Miss Safin company, can’t you, David? I know Zoya doesn’t care to dance much,” Morozova continued, either unaware or uncaring of how odd his words were. He stepped forward, then, holding out his arm for Alina to take, and she did so, after a moment of hesitation. She understood his plan, finally, but that didn’t mean that Genya wouldn’t berate Alina later for stealing her moment with Morozova. Ultimately, she decided that Genya would understand. It would be impolite to reject Morozova, anyway.

“That was sneaky of you,” Alina told him quietly as he led her away towards the dance floor.

“What was?” Morozova asked emotionlessly, paying very little attention to Alina at all.

“Oh, with-- With Mr. Kostyk. I saw how he was looking at Genya, too,” Alina stumbled over her words, feeling so uprooted by Morozova’s presence and his unexpected actions that she could hardly string a sentence together.

“I didn’t notice. I saw how she was looking at me, though, like a piece of meat.”

This might have been the most surprising thing he’d said all night. Genya was the most eligible lady in town, and if he was looking for a wife, then she might as well have been the only option. Badmouthing her was surely a sign that he wasn’t interested, but why? Alina felt a surge of protectiveness for Genya. Either Morozova was a naturally impolite man, or he simply did not care about how he came off. Alina was infuriated for Genya’s sake.

“Perhaps if you had even once acknowledged her, she wouldn’t have to leer,” Alina replied finally, choosing her words carefully.

They danced, then, and they did not speak again. Alina didn’t even spare a glance to see how he had reacted to her words. The music and raucous cheering of the folks around them kept it from being too suffocatingly awkward, though every time Morozova lightly touched Alina’s back or arm to lead her in the dance she shivered. He was a pleasant enough partner, but the second the song was over she simply bowed at him and stalked away, not wanting to suffer through his company for a moment longer. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Mr. Kostyk was leading Genya onto the floor, looking very much stunned like he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. Genya’s face was carefully blank, and though she knew her sister well, Alina could not tell how she was feeling.

She moved back to the corner of the room, stayed there all night, and did not speak to anyone again, nor did anyone seek her out.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, a letter came for Genya. It was from Zoya, inviting her to dine at Netherfield. More than likely, it was just Zoya being proper, acknowledging whatever status Genya did hold in town, but as Genya did not seem to have much taste for Zoya the night before, Alina was surprised when she happily accepted.

“Can I take the carriage?” Genya asked hopefully.

“Nonsense, you know your father needs it for work,” Mrs. Safin replied.

“But it is too far to walk!”

“You can ride, then.”

“Ride? That’s hardly becoming, not when I am arriving at Netherfield!”

“You’ve already been invited, haven’t you? Miss Nazyalensky can’t exactly turn you away at the door.”

“Though her temperament might desire to,” Alina chimed in. Genya gave her a snide look, but her eyes twinkled with amusement. 

“I will have to wear my best muslin, and ride slowly,” Genya resolved. After another quick bite of her biscuit, she hopped up and ran from the kitchen, presumably to get ready though dinner was still several hours away.

“Mrs. Safin, shall I accompany you to the market?” Alina asked. She often did, as she found it was a comforting way to spend her day, doing something both normal and helpful. Alina often felt like she did not do enough with her time, too complacent given everything the Safins provided for her, but she had always been determined to keep busy doing something worthwhile. After all, she would not live with the Safins forever. She would either be married or die a lonely spinster, but either way, she would have to take care of herself once more.

“If you’d like, dear, but I may beg off going, it looks like it might rain.”

“Rain?” Alina said, in confusion. “But you’ve just sent Genya off on horseback.”

“And it will be much too wet for her to ride home, so I fear she will have to stay the night at Netherfield.”

“Dastardly woman,” Mr. Safin commented. “You’ve set our daughter up.”

“Hopefully this gives Mr. Morozova a bit more time to familiarize himself with Genya, he didn’t seem very receptive to her last night.”

Alina did not speak what they all were thinking, that Mr. Morozova had danced only with her and then hovered by Zoya’s side all night, avoiding all other female attention completely.

But sure enough, later that evening, a letter arrived for Alina from Genya at Netherfield, saying that she would not only be staying the night, but several nights, as she had caught a cold and Zoya had offered to call her a nurse. The letter did not speak of Mr. Morozova, but Alina suspected that was as large a part in Genya’s staying as her sickness. It appeared as though all was right in the world once more, and whatever oddness had transpired between him and Alina at the ball was forgotten.

“Should I go to see her? I don’t want her to feel alone,” Alina asked the Safins over their meal.

“I’m sure Mr. Morozova is keeping her in good company,” Mrs. Safin said slyly.

“Heaven forbid,” Mr. Safin groaned, like any father with a daughter would. Like Alina’s father might have, if he was still around.

The news of Genya’s sickness had brought her parents to the forefront of Alina’s mind. They had passed from a fever. She had tried to take care of them as best she could, spending many days at their bedside tending to them, and out in the market selling whatever little precious items they owned to compensate for the fact that they could not work while ill. In the end, it had all been futile. They both went with God, and Alina had been left alone with nothing. It was foolish, because Genya had a simple cold, but Alina couldn’t shake the feeling that she wanted to be there to take care of her sister, too. So the next morning, she traveled to Netherfield on foot, plowing through the fields with utmost determination.

Zoya did not look too happy when the footman announced Alina’s arrival, especially once she strode into the dining room in her muddy boots. She’d walked there from the house, and it had rained the night before, so it was hardly her fault, but she did feel a bit guilty about it. Not very proper.

Mr. Kostyk and Mr. Morozova also sat with Zoya at the table, and looked up when Alina came in. She shuffled under their gaze.

“Good lord, Miss Starkov,” Zoya said. “Did you walk here?”

“Yes, I’m very sorry about the…” Alina trailed off, uselessly gesturing to the track she’d left on the flooring. “Um, how is my sister?”

“Do you mean Miss Safin?” Zoya asked, smirking. She was being purposely condescending, but as Alina narrowed her eyes and prepared to fire back, Morozova spoke up instead.

“Your sister has been taken good care of,” he said. “She is resting well upstairs.”

“I can show you,” Mr. Kostyk replied. It was the first time Alina heard him speak.

He moved to get up, but Zoya waved him off. “The footman can. We have business to discuss.”

Mr. Kostyk looked like discussing business with Zoya was the very last thing he wanted to do at that moment, but did as she said anyways. Alina nodded her head towards them as the footman led her out of the room and upstairs.

Netherfield Park was a grand house, with marble flooring and sleek stone steps, wide windows adorned with gold, and decorative art lining the hallways. For someone like Alina, who had never been anywhere so impressive, it was hard to tear her eyes away from any one of the beautiful paintings which the light hit just right.

The room Genya was staying in was bigger than their sitting room at home. But with a large canopy bed, multiple stuffed-full bookshelves, and ornate furniture for resting in, all the space in the room was taken up, and Alina felt it was a bit ostentatious. Like a too-overt display of wealth.

“Alina!” Genya lit up when she walked in, and instinctively moved over on the bed so she could lay down with her. It was something they had not practiced in a few years now, since they were young girls, but it still felt comfortable and natural.

“How are you feeling?” Alina asked immediately, touching Genya’s forehead carefully.

“Like an imposition,” Genya replied. “But, oh, David has been taking such good care of me.”

“David?” Alina froze. “Mr. Kostyk?”

A shy smile spread across Genya’s face. “Yes.”

This was not the outcome Alina had expected, but it was one she was excited about nonetheless. “Oh, tell me everything! I noticed him looking at you at the ball, but I thought you had your sights set on Morozova.”

“I did, at first,” Genya said quietly. “But we danced, and he was so… gentle. He seemed a bit scared to talk to me, actually. It was so flattering I could hardly contain myself. When I came for dinner, we got to speaking properly, and since I’ve been ill, he’s up here with me as much as he dares. I think he hopes Zoya doesn’t find out, but I’m sure she already knows.”

“Do you think she wouldn’t approve? Or your parents?” Alina asked carefully. In her mind, love was the object of importance when it came to a potential marriage, but that was not Genya’s reality. Mrs. Safin had sent her here to appeal to Morozova, not David. Mr. Safin had mentioned that Genya’s happiness mattered the most, but would he truly mean that if Genya came to him and said she wanted his permission to marry a common man instead?

“It wouldn’t be very becoming of my station,” Genya admitted. “But it wouldn’t be a fall from grace, either. He’s respected enough.”

Alina could hardly stand it any longer. “Oh, Genya who cares! I’m so happy for you. Shall I just go tell him to propose right now?” She giggled as she stood up from the bed, faking like she was going to leave the room, and Genya hastily pulled her back down.

They chatted about every little detail, and Alina thought that she had never seen her friend so content. If she herself could not be so happy, seeing Genya that way was more than enough.

* * *

Zoya had invited Alina to stay at Netherfield until her sister was fit to travel again, though she sounded almost in pain as she extended the offer. Alina politely pretended not to notice, and accepted. What that meant, however, was that while Genya rested, which was often, Alina was forced to keep the company of Zoya, David, and most unfortunately, Morozova. She read several of the books from Genya’s room to keep up the image of busyness, but even sitting on a couch opposite Morozova was a suffocating affair.

“Are you writing to your mother, Morozova?” Zoya asked him one afternoon as they resided in the sitting room. Genya was fast asleep upstairs, David watching over her, and Alina was occupying herself with random literature. Morozova was sprawled lazily at the nearby table, and was in fact writing a letter. Zoya hovered over him.

“You know that I am, as you have working eyes in your head and are using them to read over my shoulder like a buzzing fly,” Morozova said rudely. Alina could almost wholeheartedly agree that Zoya was annoying, but on principle did not like to agree with Morozova about anything. She rolled her eyes.

“Tell her that I would like to see her,” Zoya continued, not put off by the insult.

“I already have,” Morozova responded. “But I hope she does not agree, because your presence may bring her to her deathbed once more, and she has been feeling better for some months now.”

Zoya smacked his shoulder. Alina looked up from her novel, intrigued by his words despite herself. “Your mother is ill?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes,” Morozova answered simply, glancing away from his letter up at her and then back.

“And yet she is an exceedingly competent woman,” Zoya cut in. “I adore Baghra’s company greatly.”

“Competent, yes. Worth adoration, I would think not,” Morozova said.

Alina almost couldn’t believe her ears, and decided right then that holding her tongue was not worth it. “You would say such a thing about your own mother?”

“She would consider it a compliment,” Morozova replied carelessly.

“No wonder you are unmarried,” Alina said. “You deem yourself the interpreter of women’s emotions, and are unmistakably incorrect.”

Morozova looked up at her properly, now, setting his letter aside. “I am unmarried because I choose to be.”

Zoya, who was quietly amused with the conversation up to this point, chimed back in. “Morozova feels that no woman is accomplished enough to be worthy of his attention.”

“Love is no matter? Just accomplishment?” Alina asked incredulously.

“Love is easily given and taken away,” Morozova shot back. “I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen women, in all my acquaintance, that are truly accomplished. It is a better measure of one’s character.”

“My goodness, you must comprehend a great deal in the idea,” Alina said.

“I do.”

“Absolutely. She must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word. And something in her air and manner of walking,” Zoya said, apparently speaking of herself, as she began to pace around the room in a demonstration of the very manner of walking she spoke of.

“And of course she must improve her mind by extensive reading,” Morozova said, and if Alina had not been rolling her eyes at his words, she might have noticed that he glanced at the novel she held in her hands.

“I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any,” Alina responded. Morozova’s attitude was so rude that Alina wanted to get up and leave the room, but she was not as impolite as he, and so would finish out the conversation.

“Are you so severe on your own sex?” Morozova fired back.

“I think that a woman does not have to be such a fearsome thing to behold to be considered accomplished,” Alina commented. “Especially when one recognizes that men often do much less, but are called the same.”

Morozova looked quite offended at this, his face falling, and Alina was privately contented by his reaction. She had meant to call him out with her words, and evidently, he had seen that exactly. Perhaps she was being mean-spirited, but it was not as though he didn’t deserve it.

A few days more passed without any incident between Alina and Morozova. During mealtimes, they steadfastly ignored each other, and only responded to Zoya’s incessant chatter when she prompted them to. Whenever Alina was able to, however, she retired to Genya’s room to be with her, and was as a result able to witness the blossoming of her acquaintance with David. He treated her well, to be sure, constantly asking how she felt and what she needed, and also looked happy to simply sit and listen to her as she regaled him with stories.

Genya was actually quite put out when she began to feel better, and Zoya sent notice back to the Safins. They would be going home that day, and Genya would no longer have such uninterrupted time with David. Alina, on the other hand, was relieved. She felt stifled at Netherfield, and missed her morning walks.

“What an excellent room you have. Such expensive furnishings. I hope you intend to stay here, Miss Nazyalensky,” Mrs. Safin began to ramble the moment she arrived. “Is it true that you have promised to hold a ball here at Netherfield?”

“Yes, it’s true,” Zoya admitted. “I haven’t found the company here very… stimulating. Some of my acquaintances from Os Alta will be arriving.”

“Oh, how excellent! You could invite the militia. They are wonderful company. You and our Alina might both make a match,” Mrs. Safin continued, oblivious to Zoya’s judgment.

“What?” Alina gaped. She knew that Mrs. Safin desired to see her married, but didn’t think she would go so far as mentioning to Zoya that she needed a _match_. It was sufficiently embarrassing. Morozova also looked somewhat shocked by Mrs. Safin’s words. Perhaps it was her boldness that startled him.

Whatever mocking thing Zoya might have said next was preemptively cut off by Genya and David’s arrival. He carried her bag for her, trailing behind, and she smiled and ran to hug her mother.

Outside, their carriage awaited, Mrs. Safin having brought it to spare them all from riding home. David helped Genya into it, handing off her bag, and she blushed gratefully. Mrs. Safin watched this exchange with a careful eye, and Alina suddenly remembered that she was still under the impression Genya and Morozova were pursuing each other. How could Mrs. Safin possibly be upset, though, when Genya and David were clearly both so smitten? Alina certainly felt like love was in the air every time she was simply around them.

After bowing to Zoya and Morozova politely, and sharing a small smile with David, Alina stepped up to the carriage, and before she could pull herself up, Morozova’s hand shot out and grabbed hers. Before she even had a moment to think about how odd it was, or about the warmth spreading through her from the place where they were touching, he had helped her up into her seat and quickly pulled away.

Alina blushed against her own will as the carriage started forward, and she didn’t dare look back at Morozova. He always left her feeling so off-kilter. First, at the ball, when he asked her unexpectedly to dance, then when he had spoken rudely of Genya, and then of his mother. Truly, what kind of a man could speak ill of his sick mother?

It was quite possible that she would never see him again, though. If she could avoid him at Zoya’s ball, then that could be the end of it. She would never again have to be subjected to Morozova’s disconcerting presence. Resolving to make sure that happened, Alina felt surer of herself than she had in days.

When they arrived home, Mr. Safin offered some news that swiftly ruined that feeling. “I have reason to expect an addition to our family party,” he said, holding up a letter. Genya groaned when she saw it.

“Who is it?” Alina asked her once they had gone upstairs to Genya’s room.

“Mr. Nikolai Lantsov. My dreaded cousin,” she answered, sighing and falling back onto her bed. Alina climbed up after her. “He’s set to inherit, as I was most unfortunately born a woman.”

“So he could turn you out whenever he so pleased?”

“Yes. Even these here linens on my bed belong to Mr. Lantsov. I’ve never met him, but I’m sure to hate him.”

Alina couldn’t help but think that was a bit presumptuous, but she decided to hate him, too, out of loyalty to Genya. “Shall we poison his food?” The joke succeeded in putting a smile on Genya’s face, one that had not been there since their carriage pulled away from Netherfield.

* * *

It was a most unfortunate coincidence that Mr. Nikolai Lantsov was in actuality incredibly charitable and handsome. He introduced himself to Alina and Genya with a kind smile, telling them to call him by his first name, and bowed at them though he did not have to. Their conversation leading up to dinner was perfectly pleasant, and he made several comments that were so hilarious even Genya could not help but laugh. Not once did he say anything crass, and he treated the Safins with an easy affection.

After dinner, when Mr. and Mrs. Safin retired for the night and Genya went to collect her washing from outside, Nikolai asked what Alina was reading.

“I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” Alina said, but he was quick to correct her.

“No, no, no, I was just curious.”

She put the book down anyway. “It’s _Henry V_.”

“You enjoy Shakespeare?”

“He’s hard not to enjoy.”

“Are you a fan of his comedies, or his tragedies?” Nikolai asked, his tone completely sincere.

“Er, neither. I’m partial to his history plays. _Henry V_ is my favorite, I’ve read it before.”

“I feel ashamed to admit it, but I’ve never read his histories. Not very scholarly of me.”

“Oh, you must!” Alina said, forgetting all impropriety for the moment. It wasn’t often that she was able to discuss Shakespeare, for Genya was not a fan of any of his writings, and Alina did not know many people besides Genya, after all. As she began to ramble on about her opinions, Nikolai looked pleasantly surprised, and what followed was a long and very stimulating conversation that left Alina going to bed feeling happy.

He stayed the night, and the next morning Alina accidentally encountered him on her walk. “Hello,” she called. “Sorry, I was just reading.”

“No matter. I was enjoying some fresh air. The grounds are beautiful.”

“Well, it will all be yours one day,” Alina muttered. She honestly hated how much she liked him. Genya should not have to give up her family home to someone she’d never met simply because he was a man and she was not. But Nikolai was unavoidably agreeable. So much so that he even smiled at her biting words.

“May I be honest with you?” he said after a moment, twisting his hands together nervously. There was something about his character that made it odd to see him so anxious.

“Please,” Alina welcomed.

“The reason I’ve come is to propose to Genya. So that the estate might remain in her family, once we are married,” Nikolai confessed. “I have no use for it. And I feel guilty.”

He could not have said anything more unexpected. Alina’s head snapped towards him, and she thought immediately of David. “What? Propose to Genya?”

“Yes…” he trailed off. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

Alina took pause here. It was not a bad idea, and was actually an overwhelming gesture of goodwill. But that didn’t mean he should do it. “May I be honest with you, now?”

“Of course.”

“There’s someone… I think Genya is hoping that someone else will propose to her. Mr. David Kostyk. She met him a fortnight ago. He’s very chivalrous. And smitten with her, too.”

Nikolai sighed, but did not seem angry or even defeated. “I don’t suppose you’d want to get married, then.”

Alina dropped her book when he said this, and jolted to pick it up before it got too wet from the dewy grass. She’d changed her mind about what she thought before-- that intending to propose to Genya was the most unexpected thing he could say. This, in fact, took that title handily. “What? No. Why? You and me?”

He shifted to face her properly, looking unabashed by her reaction. “My parents feel that I’ve reached the age where I should settle down. I thought Genya would be an elegant solution, but if she loves another, I won’t make the offer. You, though, are single, are you not?”

“I am. And not interested,” she replied sharply.

Nikolai grimaced at this. “You don’t like me?”

“I like you fine. More than I thought I would, anyway. But that doesn’t mean I want to marry you,” Alina gaped. How could this be happening to her? She’d just been proposed to. It was almost unfathomable.

Should she accept it? No. She didn’t love Nikolai. But he was wealthy. She likely wouldn’t ever get a better offer. And he was nice. No-- no, Alina decided long ago that she would only ever marry for love. A few conversations with a man, however enjoyable they may be, certainly does not qualify as that.

It was just the sheer hilarity of the situation that was scrambling her thoughts in such a way.

“I’ll try not to be offended,” Nikolai said finally.

“Oh, please don’t be,” Alina responded, suddenly feeling awful. “It’s-- really, it isn’t you. You’re very agreeable.” Nikolai nodded, taking in her words. “You wouldn’t want me anyway. I’m an orphan, with no inheritance. Certainly no class. And I’m difficult to be around.”

“Why would you say that?” Nikolai laughed. 

Alina rolled her eyes. “Genya and I get on because she’s outgoing and charming enough for the both of us. But I’m, I’m quiet, and often harsh. Proud, too.”

“I think you have reason to be prideful,” Nikolai smiled softly. “You’re very lovely, Miss Starkov.”

“Alina,” she said, and that was that.

They did not tell the others what had transpired between them that morning, but it was obvious that they had grown closer in some way. As she and Genya traveled to the market the next day, she was subjected to dozens of questions, as this was the first time the two girls had been properly alone together in a while.

“Are you fond of him? Do you want my father to make a match?” Genya asked.

“No,” Alina said firmly. That was, in fact, the exact opposite of what she wanted. Because she was distracted, one of the potatoes they’d just bought fell out of the sack she was carrying, and she was too slow to catch it. “Oh! Thank you, I’m sorry,” Alina said, when a gentleman bent down to pick it up for her.

As he stood, Alina felt much like David must have at that first ball in which he met Genya. The man was tall, if skinny, and was dressed in the marked red coat of the militia. He smiled attractively, and Alina’s breath escaped her as he handed over the potato, their fingertips brushing.

“Lieutenant Oretsev,” the man said.

“I’m sorry?” Alina asked cluelessly, then silently berated herself. That was obviously his name.

“Lieutenant Malyen Oretsev,” he said again, patiently. “But a thing of beauty such as yourself can call me Mal.”

Genya snickered quietly, and Alina was brought suddenly back to reality. “Alina Starkov. My sister, Miss Genya Safin.”

“Hello.”

“Lieutenant, would you care to accompany us for a bit of shopping? We’re attending a ball this weekend, you see. I need a new white ribbon,” Genya said, squeezing Alina’s elbow. She was matchmaking, of course, and yet Alina could not seem to be bothered by it.

“A ball? Well, that is cause for a new white ribbon,” Mal said, somewhat sarcastically but not unkindly, exchanging smiles with Alina. “Yes, it would be a pleasure to accompany you ladies.”

Inside the shop, as Genya bustled around looking through the items, Alina and Mal hung back together. “I shan't even browse. I can't be trusted. I have very poor taste in ribbons,” Mal said.

“Only a man truly confident of himself would admit that,” Alina laughed.

“No, it's true. And buckles. When it comes to buckles, I'm lost.”

“Dear oh dear. You must be the shame of the regiment.”

“A laughing-stock.”

“What do your superiors do with you?”

“Ignore me. I'm of next to no importance, so it's easily done,” Mal shrugged, smirking. Alina did not think she had ever had such easy banter with anyone, save possibly for Morozova, but that was a different kind of banter. Born out of anger, and frustration. Mal was witty.

When Genya finally decided on which ribbon to buy, they set off back home, Mal chivalrously accompanying them. But when Genya hurried off inside, Mal turned to Alina, and asked “Would you like to walk a bit longer?” She could hardly do anything but agree.

“This ball that you are attending. Might it be Miss Nazyalensky’s?” Mal asked as they began to follow the path Alina typically walked on in the mornings.

“Yes! Are you invited as well?” Alina replied hopefully. Perhaps it was too soon to say she was smitten with Mal, but, well, she was.

“My entire regiment was,” Mal answered. “But I’m not sure I’ll go. I’ve heard that Mr. Morozova is staying with her, is that true?”

“Yes,” Alina said, stunned. “Do you know him?”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

Alina, who had little taste for the man herself, was immensely intrigued by this. “Have you a problem with him?”

“Yes,” Mal allowed. “But I don’t know if I should say.”

“Please don’t worry about being proper for my sake,” Alina said. “I must confess, Morozova and I don't get along very well either.”

“No? Alright then, I’ll tell you. But you mustn’t judge me too harshly.”

“I would never.” This may not have been the most accurate statement Alina could make, for she had always been quite a judgmental creature, but it felt true when she said it. She didn’t think she _would_ judge Mal in that way, especially not when it came to Morozova.

Mal took a deep breath before he began his story. “Miss Nazyalensky and I were in love, once.”

“What?” Alina interjected, gasping.

“You said you would not judge.”

“I’m not judging, I’m just shocked. Keep going.”

“Well, we were. We’ve known each other since childhood. Our fathers were close. And when Zoya became of age, I proposed to her. We were inexorably happy. Our families approved of the match, and we were set to have a wonderful life together. But she met Morozova that winter, at a dinner in Os Alta. They became fast friends, I suppose. And he never liked me, didn’t like that I came from a humbler background, or that I took Zoya’s attention away from him. He began to feed her poison about me. Told her blatant lies, that I was running around with other women, was going to steal her inheritance and leave. You understand that I would never. But eventually, it took its toll on Zoya. She began to believe him, and in the end, she was the one to leave me.”

“That’s horrible,” Alina whispered, aghast. She disliked Morozova, but just for his attitude, she didn’t know he was capable of such a cruel deed. Now she did.

“I was massively depressed for many months. It’s why I finally joined the militia, to get myself out of the rut I was in. And I’ve grown into a man, now. I’ve moved on. But I will not ever forget what Morozova did to me, to our relationship.”

“That’s a hard thing to forget,” Alina murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

“As I said, I’ve moved on. But you see now, why me attending Zoya’s ball is probably not the best idea.”

“No, probably not. But I will still miss your presence there greatly.”

Mal smiled at her, and Alina could’ve sworn that the sun shone a bit brighter.

* * *

The following evening, as Genya forced Alina and Nikolai to help her get ready for the ball-- the two of them sharing many amused glances over her shoulder-- Alina told them Mal’s story. He was on her mind, even though he would not be at the ball himself. She never kept anything from Genya, anyway. Nikolai looked far too happy to be clued in on the gossip as well.

“Don’t you think it might have been a misunderstanding?” Genya asked as Alina pulled curlers from her hair.

“I don’t see how that could be possible,” Alina said. “He broke them up, Genya! For his own selfish purposes.”

“Men are very territorial creatures,” Nikolai shrugged from where he was lounging on Genya’s bed.

“I’ll ask David about it this evening,” Genya decided. “He’s known Mr. Morozova for many years now.”

“David, eh?” Alina teased, grateful for the opportunity to change the subject. “What do you think will transpire between the two of you this evening.”

“Likely not more than dancing,” Genya sighed. “But I do hope that he’ll ask to seek my father’s permission for our engagement.”

At this word, Alina and Nikolai once again shared a private smile. It was their personal joke, now, and Genya would never know what it meant. It was kind of nice, Alina thought, to have something for herself like that. Something like her own friend, which she’d made and kept all on her own.

They took the Safins’ carriage to the ball, and it was a good thing they did, because Netherfield was the picture of wealthy society that evening. Women dressed in riches and men in the finest suits were stepping out of their own carriages and into the house. Alina felt out of place the moment they arrived, but she sensed Nikolai’s hand as it came to rest softly on her back, and as he led her inside, she was much more sure of herself.

Zoya stood in the hallway welcoming guests, and when her eyes fell upon Nikolai, her mouth spread into what appeared to be a genuine grin for the very first time. As Alina appeared behind him, though, her eyes narrowed once more. Still, she was as forcibly proper as ever, nodding to Genya and the Safins and telling them to enjoy themselves. Genya ran off quickly, to find David surely, but Zoya stopped Nikolai and Alina before they could do the same.

“I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced,” Zoya said, looking at Nikolai expectantly.

“Nikolai Lantsov,” he replied politely.

“Miss Zoya Nazyalensky,” she said, bowing slightly. “You’re accompanying Alina this evening?”

“I am,” Nikolai nodded.

“How lovely,” Zoya smirked, apparently finding some private amusement in this that Alina and Nikolai were not privy to. “Oh, Morozova! Come here. Meet Mr. Lantsov.”

Morozova stalked up behind Zoya and joined their little group, glaring at Nikolai the moment his eyes fell upon him. If a gaze could kill, Nikolai would surely be in the infirmary after only a few seconds. “I know him,” Morozova said grumpily.

“You do?” Alina and Zoya both asked incredulously, though for different reasons.

“Yes, I’m acquainted with Mr. Morozova’s mother. She tutored me, for a time,” Nikolai answered evasively.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Alina said, careful not to betray the true meaning of her words.

“It’s unimportant. Mr. Morozova and I have never had the pleasure of actually meeting, though I’m glad we now have. Hello,” Nikolai nodded. Morozova did it back, looking as though it pained him to do so.

“Hello,” Morozova said gruffly.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Alina said before the conversation could go further, desperate to remove herself from the growing situation, “Nikolai, a dance?”

“Of course,” he said, allowing her to lead him away.

As soon as they were out of Zoya and Morozova’s earshot, though Alina could still feel their eyes following them around the room, Alina turned to Nikolai and whispered furiously to him, “You didn’t think to mention your acquaintance with him earlier? When I was telling you about Mal?”

“I already said it was unimportant,” Nikolai defended. “I’ve had no impression of the man at all until now. His mother does not even speak of him. Your story was the first time I heard his true character, and I agreed that he seemed villainous, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” Alina sighed. “I’m sorry. He works me up. Shall we actually dance?”

Nikolai did not reply, but simply pulled her onto the dancefloor with him, and they began to follow the steps of the music together. It was much more proper than the style of dance Alina was used to, but Nikolai was a competent leader, and got her through the dance with only minor fumbling on her part. They pulled apart, and Alina was glad to notice that Genya and David had also been dancing together.

“Look,” Alina grinned, pointing slightly, and in that one moment she took her eyes off Nikolai, Morozova appeared in front of her. “Oh. Hello again.”

“Hello,” Morozova allowed. “May I have the next dance, Alina?”

“Er,” she stuttered, but Nikolai was already stepping away traitorously. It would be discourteous to refuse him, now. “Alright.”

Morozova reached for her hand daintily, and the same warmth she had felt that time he helped her into the carriage could be felt again. As they began to dance carefully together, Morozova silent and focused and Alina uncomfortable, she spotted Genya and David paired together once more. By now, they would surely be noticed. Spending two dances in a row together was like setting off a sign to the entire room that they were pursuing each other. The Safins could not be clueless any longer.

“I know you don’t want to admit that it was such, but your matchmaking attempt was successful,” Alina muttered to Morozova, gesturing minutely to the pair. He followed her point but did not say anything. “It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Morozova.”

This he looked startled by. Why, Alina could not fathom. “What would you most like to hear?” he replied carefully. They glided and spun along the floor together, in perfect sync.

“That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But for now, we may be silent.”

“Do you talk as a rule while dancing?” Morozova asked her.

“No, no. I prefer to be unsociable and taciturn. That makes it all so much more enjoyable, don't you think?” She was overtly teasing him, now, but the more discomfort he showed, the more Alina felt like she had the upper hand over him. And she liked to be the one in control.

“I didn’t think you were going to enjoy yourself with me either way,” Morozova said snidely. “Not when you can have Lantsov’s company.”

“I do enjoy his company dearly,” Alina agreed. “I feared it might be awkward, after the proposal, but in fact, we’ve become very good friends.”

“The-- what?” Morozova missed a step in the dance for the first time, faltering so much that Alina actually had to take the lead for a moment to get them back on track. “The proposal? You’re engaged, to Lantsov?”

“No, I refused him,” Alina said, in disbelief at his reaction. “But why should you care?”

It was several long seconds before Morozova’s reply came. “I don’t.”

The music came to a slow stop there, saving both of them from further awkward conversation. They bowed to each other, and Alina rapidly moved away, off to find Nikolai or Genya to entertain her.

Alina felt, ridiculously, as though she’d somehow made a mistake. Said something she shouldn’t have. But there was no reason that Morozova should care about her rejecting Nikolai, and it was not scandalous enough that she could be ruined if he spread the news. Still, she wished she hadn’t told him, for a reason she couldn’t quite place.

“There you are,” she said finally, grabbing onto Nikolai’s arm. “I’ve just had the most painful dance with Morozova, and it’s your fault for leaving me alone with him.”

“Painful?” Nikolai chuckled. “Did he step on your toes?”

“No, he’s much too polished for that. To do it on accident, at least. Had our conversation gone on for a moment longer he might have done so purposefully,” Alina grimaced.

“Do you think he truly holds so much distaste for you?”

“If he doesn’t, it’s no matter to me,” she said. “Because I despise him enough for both of us.”

Nikolai was silent for a moment, smiling at her like he knew a secret she didn’t. “You were right,” he said finally. “You are judgmental.”

Alina scoffed, smacking him playfully on the arm. She turned, deciding to look for Genya and put Morozova out of her mind completely. She had resolved to never see him again, after all, and this unfortunate dance they spent together could be forgotten if she tried hard enough. She did spot Genya, after inspecting the crowd quite thoroughly, and saw her having what appeared like a very heated conversation with Mrs. Safin.

“Oh no,” Alina muttered. Surely this was about David, who was nowhere to be seen, and the same for Mr. Safin. “I’ve got to go to Genya’s rescue. I’ll be back,” she told Nikolai, and he let her go easily once he saw what she did.

Pushing through the throngs of people, moving as quickly as she dared so as not to look like she was sprinting through the hall, Alina sidled up next to Genya and put a comforting hand on her back right away. “Having a pleasant evening?” Alina asked, knowing fully that she’d interrupted their conversation. Genya was looking sullen, and Mrs. Safin’s face was tight and pinched.

“No,” Genya snapped. “My father’s just taken David away. Probably to push him in the fountain and leave him there.”

“Oh, Genya!” Mrs. Safin groaned. “So dramatic!”

“I love him, mama,” Genya said firmly. “And he loves me too. Alina’s seen in with her own eyes, haven’t you, Alina?”

Alina didn’t like to be put on the spot in such a way, but Genya’s eyes were pleading. Risking the wrath of Mrs. Safin, Alina said, “Yes, I saw it. He’s very much in love. They would be a good match.”

Finally, Mrs. Safin seemed to dim with sympathy. She brought a hand up to cup Genya’s cheek. “I have no doubt about your love for each other. Watching you dance proved that readily. But it’s not what’s best for our family, Genya. You understand that.”

“He’s got money,” Genya said quietly. “Enough. And he’s well-known to Zoya’s acquaintances. I would be safe with him in every sense of the word. And Nikolai is going to take our estate anyway, is he not? So what would I truly be marrying for, if I couldn’t be with David?”

This seemed to silence Mrs. Safin at last. Genya did not wait around to see what she might say next, though. She patted Alina on the shoulder thankfully, and then slipped away, into the crowd, presumably off to find David.

Alina stood in the place where Genya had left uneasily, watching to see what Mrs. Safin’s reaction would be. “She’s right, isn’t she?” Alina said carefully.

Mrs. Safin sighed. “I do want her to be happy, you understand? But society’s expectations…”

“If you and Mr. Safin approved of their matrimony, I doubt society would have any expectations at all,” Alina said decidedly. “But that’s just my perspective.”

Alina bowed her leave, and then hurried off through the crowd once more. To do what, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that this night was turning out to be a complete disaster. Perhaps she should find Nikolai, find Genya, and they could leave together. It would be rude, surely, but there was nothing at the ball enticing Alina to stay longer.

She did not have success in finding Nikolai right away. Instead, she spotted Zoya and Morozova, the exact last two people she wanted to see at this moment. Even less exciting-- she heard her name as she attempted to squeeze past them, and she stopped dead in her tracks to hear what they were saying. Alina was only human, of course she wanted to know whatever gossip Morozova was spreading about her.

“Can you believe who Alina’s brought here?” Zoya was muttering to Morozova. “What does a wealthy man like Lantsov want with her?”

“To propose, apparently,” Morozova said, his tone full of bitterness.

“What?” Zoya gaped.

“Alina told me. Lantsov proposed to her. I don’t know why, as she has no inheritance to speak of.” A sinking feeling began to pull on Alina’s gut. She shouldn’t listen to this. She knew exactly how Zoya and Morozova felt about her, there was no reason to endure this. And yet she did not move away.

“Well, I suppose she’s pretty enough to be agreeable,” Zoya sighed.

“Perfectly tolerable, I dare say, but not handsome enough to tempt me,” Morozova said contemptuously.

There was something about those words that stung worse than anything else he’d ever said to her. Perhaps because he did not know she was listening, and so was saying what he truly thought of her. Either way, Alina suddenly could not bear to hear any more, and she started forward, her eyes stinging embarrassingly.

Morozova and Zoya noticed her as she rushed past, but did not look guilty in the least. They were apparently clueless to the fact that she’d overheard them.

To have a moment to collect herself, Alina pushed into the empty drawing room, taking several deep breaths and willing herself to calm down. It was ridiculous to be upset about this. Absurd, even.

She was startled out of her thoughts by the drawing room door opening behind her, and as she turned to tell the stranger to go away, she jumped at the sight of Morozova. He leaned against the door, at a loss for something to say, but clearly here for a purpose.

“Yes?” Alina asked, willing her voice to come out steady. 

“Why did you say no? To Lantsov’s proposal?” Morozova said at last.

Alina scoffed. “I do not owe you an answer to that.”

“But you told me that he had done,” Morozova argued. “You wouldn’t have, if you didn’t want me to know. The reason, I cannot fathom.”

This was a good enough point, but Alina wasn’t quite sure of the reason herself. “Perhaps I was just making small talk. Being polite, not that you would know much about that.”

Morozova did not let Alina’s resentment deter him. “Why did you refuse him?”

“Because I don’t love him,” Alina said. “We’d only known each other a day, then. Any vague inclination of feelings I might have had would be killed stone dead by his presumptuousness.”

“So what do you recommend, then, to encourage affection?” Morozova questioned. His tone was innocent enough, if his words were a bit peculiar.

“Kindness,” Alina decided. “Even if the subject is not handsome enough to warrant it.”

He flinched back at this barb, realizing that Alina had heard him earlier. She felt herself grow stronger just by saying it. _You see, he is not the ruler of your emotions,_ Alina told herself.

They stared at each other, neither breaking the other’s gaze, as if it was a test to see who was the weaker one. “Do you think so little of my character?” Morozova said finally.

“Yes,” Alina offered willingly. “I have never once been impressed by your presence, and after what Mal told me about you, I never shall be.”

Alina thought she had seen him angry before, but it was nothing compared to how his entire body shuttered when she said these words. He leveled a piercing stare at her. “Mal? You’re not possibly speaking of Malyen Oretsev?”

“Lieutenant Oretsev,” Alina said cheekily.

“And when did you meet him?” Morozova pestered, stepping closer to her, Alina stepping back.

“In town this week,” Alina explained. “His regiment is here. He told me all about you, Morozova, but it did little more than confirm what I already knew to be true. That you disgust me.”

“You believed him?” Morozova roared. “At his word?”

“I have no reason not to trust him, unlike you, who has been nothing but evasive and hateful since I had the displeasure of meeting you!” Alina was the one stepping closer, now. All of her feelings towards him were bubbling toward the surface, and she was at risk of exploding. Morozova did not look offended, however. He had the same fire in his eyes, and he moved closer, too.

“Displeasure?” Morozova chuckled darkly. “No, I think you want me more than you will admit to yourself. Is that why you brought Lantsov here, to parade him around, to provoke my jealousy? Congratulations. You were successful.”

“What...?” Alina shook her head, all the fight in her dissipating. That was not the response she was expecting him to give, and she was right back to feeling unsteady on her feet around him. She hated that feeling. “You think I was trying to make you jealous, Morozova?”

His eyes fluttered closed, then snapped back open. “Don’t call me that anymore.”

“What do you want me to call you? Pig?” Alina hounded.

“Aleksander,” he said simply.

“Is that…”

“My name. Aleksander. Say it.” He was so close to her now that she could almost sense his breath on her.

It was an inescapable pull. “Aleksander,” she breathed out.

His eyes closed again, and he shivered. He was pleased. Alina had pleased him. And she liked that he had reacted in such a way, for once the one that was at her mercy, and not the other way around. There was so much tension between them that nothing might have interrupted them now. Aleksander’s eyes blinked open, and the dark orbs captivated Alina, so black she might have fallen into them.

Whatever he was going to do next, he didn’t get the chance. The door blew open, and they jumped apart like kids getting caught doing something naughty, acting as nonchalantly as they could given how fraught they had been just moments before.

It was just Genya. “I was looking for you!” she said, eyeing Alina and Aleksander suspiciously. “We’re going home. Nikolai has brought the carriage around. Come on.”

“What happened with David and your father?” Alina asked hesitantly. Genya wanting to leave in such a rush was not a good sign. 

Genya’s eyes pooled with tears. “It’s a nightmare, Alina.”

“Oh no,” Alina cursed, hurrying to comfort her sister. They walked straight out of the drawing room together, Genya huddled into her side, and she did not turn back to look at Aleksander, who was left there.

She wanted to, more than almost anything. But she didn’t.

* * *

Alina slept in Genya’s bed that night, for the first time in a while. Genya told her the entire story of what had happened during the ball, and Alina told her nothing.

Mr. Safin had apparently pulled David away as soon as he and Genya had finished their second dance, and that was when Mrs. Safin had begun to chastise Genya, which Alina had come upon. Genya did not find David again all night, but did find her father, who said that being around David would destroy her reputation, make her undesirable to better men. Genya had told him that she didn’t want anyone better. He refused to hear it-- so much for _we just want you to be happy._

“The thing is, I understand why they’re being so difficult. They’re old-fashioned. But if I have answers for all of their arguments, then why must they keep making them?” Genya complained.

Alina’s mind was too preoccupied to offer much better comfort than a shoulder to cry on, which she felt massively guilty about. Yet she could not force Aleksander out of her thoughts, and neither she nor Genya slept much at all that night.

At breakfast the next morning, which was a stilted affair with none of the Safins speaking to each other and Alina and Nikolai both feeling much more sympathetic to Genya’s side than her parents, a letter arrived for Genya. From David. She ran off to her room to read it, and after a moment so as not to be impolite, Alina followed her.

Genya was already sitting on her bed, tearful, when Alina came in. “Oh dear, what did it say?”

“They’ve left Netherfield,” Genya said, her voice the smallest Alina had ever heard. “Morozova’s mother fell ill. They’ve all gone back to Os Alta.”

“What?” Alina gasped. She knew that Aleksander’s mother was not well, he’d told her that. But he had also said she’d been doing better for a fair while now. Her heart clenched, and she helplessly thought of her own mother, how Alina had been by her side until the very end. It wasn’t fair, to have to witness that. Aleksander became the subject of her thoughts once more.

“I’ll never see David again!” Genya wailed, and though Alina was not sure what comfort she could give, especially with her own head spinning, she hugged her sister anyway.

The Safin home was still and quiet in the days following. Genya kept mostly to her room, letting herself be miserable, and no one wanted to disturb her. Alina and Nikolai took lots of walks, even when they did not particularly want to, just to get away for an hour or two. Mr. Safin would go off to trade and not come back until after dinner, and Genya took all her meals upstairs. Nikolai and Alina were caught in the middle, yet Nikolai was still hesitant to return home, because if he did he would be bombarded with questions from his parents about if he had found a wife while visiting his cousin. So they lived with the situation.

The upside was that no one seemed to care when Alina went into town to visit Mal. She saw him three times in those days, and all they did was walk around the shops together, chatting and laughing. Her heart sang every time she was with him. He was impossibly charming, and she enjoyed every minute of their time together.

There was some small part of her that yelled at her to remember how Aleksander had taken her breath away. That nagged at her thoughts and reminded her how differently she felt about Mal. But the difference was not a bad thing. Being with Mal was so easy, and delightful. It was like he always knew exactly what to say to her.

She told him about Genya’s plight with David, and how she and Nikolai had become friends. She even told him how she had become acquainted with Zoya-- but for some reason, she never spoke of Aleksander with Mal again. It seemed off-limits, somehow.

Whatever joy Alina had found with Mal came to a crashing end just days later. He actually came by the Safins’ house, knocked on the door, and asked to see her. It was startling to Mrs. Safin, who had no idea that Alina was entertaining any male company at all. In all likelihood, she was probably pressed against the door listening when Alina stepped out to speak with him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him hopefully. She had a fleeting thought that maybe a proposal… no, that would be ridiculous. And premature, surely. But, well. It wasn’t like she _didn’t_ want him to.

“I’ve come to say goodbye,” Mal said, and the smile froze on Alina’s face. “My regiment has been called back to Os Alta. I’m leaving.”

This news might as well have clobbered Alina’s heart in half. “And you can’t do anything?”

“No,” Mal said sadly. “I’ve no choice. I’m a lieutenant. I must go.”

There was nothing left to say except, “I’ll miss you.”

“My dear Alina,” Mal shook his head, pulling her into a loose hug, not to be improper but to show her he cared. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

And that was that. The next morning, Mal was gone, and Alina found herself in almost the same depression as Genya. She avoided Mrs. Safin’s questions, withdrew to her bedroom, and spent much of her time reading. Her morning walks didn’t even hold the same peacefulness. Nikolai could hardly stand to see it.

“This is ridiculous! I thought I would come here and find two wonderful new friends, if not a wife! Instead, I fend off your mother while you mope about all day,” Nikolai scolded them. “Both of your lovers are in Os Alta? Fine, then. We shall go to Os Alta.”

“What?” Alina and Genya muttered, staring at the boy in disbelief.

“Have you both forgotten I have a home there? That I live in Os Alta three hundred days a year?”

“I might have,” Alina confessed guiltily.

“Oh, Nikolai!” Genya cheered. “We must go! You’ll actually take us?”

“The moment your father allows it,” he said decidedly.

They were in his carriage pulling away from the Safin house two days later. Genya’s excitement could hardly be contained. She was already drafting the letter that she would send to David as soon as they arrived, but Alina was much quieter. She looked out the window of the carriage, at the town she had always called home passing by, and thought of both Mal and Aleksander, who were in Os Alta just as she soon would be.

It was both exhilarating and draining to think of.

Os Alta was like nothing Alina could have ever dreamed. Bustling streets, shops selling any and every item one could think of, towering buildings, and the Little Palace off in the distance. Instead of the fields and dirt roads Alina had grown up knowing, the city was made up of cobblestone, which made for a smooth carriage ride and streets that gleamed under the sun. Alina thought to herself that she could spend years here and still not know of everything that was offered.

Nikolai’s house was impressive, but not so much so as Netherfield. It was just him living there, after all, and inside the furnishings were all clearly put in with comfort in mind rather than displaying wealth. Alina felt instantly at home there, and fell upon one of the couches in the sitting room dramatically, sighing and stretching out after the long ride.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Nikolai said, splaying out on a couch across from her while Genya went immediately to post her letter. “I flatter myself that any young lady would be happy to be the mistress of such a house.”

He winked at her, betraying the double meaning of his words. Alina rolled her eyes, and smiled.

Genya rushed in just as Alina closed her eyes to rest. “You’ll never believe it,” she said hurriedly.

“What?”

“I went to the courier to give him my letter, and there was one already waiting for you, Niko,” Genya said quickly. She held it up, the seal of the envelope already broken. “I read it. I’m sorry. But it’s from Baghra Morozova!”

“Really?” Nikolai sat up stiffly, holding out his hand for Genya to give him the letter.

“Baghra Morozova?” Alina wondered aloud. Aleksander’s mother.

“Yes, it arrived two days ago, but of course you weren’t here to receive it.”

Nikolai scanned the letter in confusion. “She’s invited me to dinner.”

“She has?” Alina asked dumbly.

“Apparently she’s fallen ill, and wishes to see me again. How… nostalgic,” Nikolai said slowly.

“You should go,” Alina said before she could think better of herself. “And if you’re hesitant to see her again, we could, you know, come with you, of course.” She hoped that came off nonchalant enough. Her head was spinning. Aleksander might be there. There was no reason he wouldn’t be, right?

“I’d love to see Morozova’s childhood home,” Genya snickered. “Do you think there might be some hint as to why he is as unfeeling as he is?”

Nikolai looked up from his letter. “I’d take a guess that it’s at least in part due to his mother, actually. She’s not a very warm woman. When she tutored me, she terrified me. I learned all my French numbers just to escape her wrath.”

What Nikolai was saying pulled at one of Alina’s memories. Aleksander saying that Baghra was _not worth adoration_. She’d been insulted on his mother’s behalf at the time, but perhaps there was more to it. If his relationship with Baghra was anywhere near as complicated as Alina’s with the Safins, or Genya with the Safins, or Nikolai with his parents, well… she might have some sympathy for Aleksander after all.

“I never learned French,” Genya shrugged, flopping down next to Alina on the cozy couch. “Much too convoluted.”

“I never learned French either,” Alina said. “But I know how to hustle an old man into buying something that’s not worth anything, if that counts as a special skill.”

It was silent for a moment, and Alina feared for a split second that she had been a bit too open about her rough past, which she rarely shared with even Genya. But then she busted out into giggles, Nikolai following, and Alina grinned, thinking that making her two best friends laugh like that was the best feeling in the world.

* * *

Mrs. Baghra Morozova’s house was even more hideously grand than Netherfield. The furniture was heavy, the walls overly decorated, and dozens of servants rushed past the trio in the hallway as they were led by a footman into the sitting room. Baghra was waiting there, reclined on a lounge chair with a servant attending to her, oblivious to their arrival until the footman announced them.

Aleksander was nowhere to be seen. Alina was oddly disappointed, and couldn’t put her finger on why.

“Nikolai. Goodness, you’ve grown,” Bagra stood just for a moment to kiss Nikolai on each cheek, and then sat again, patting the spot next to her for him to do the same. She looked then, finally, at Alina and Genya, and grimaced. “You’ve brought guests.”

“My cousins,” Nikolai nodded, waving them forward. “Miss Genya Safin, and Alina Starkov. They’re from the country, but are staying with me in Os Alta for some number of days. I thought you wouldn’t mind if they came. Your home is awe-inspiring, and I wished to show it to them.”

“Hello, your ladyship,” Alina and Genya said, bowing.

“Hm,” was all she said, before turning back to Nikolai.

Alina and Genya exchanged an awkward glance. Were they meant to sit? Or did she want them to leave? Or any other hundred things that “hm” could have meant?

“It was very kind of you to ask me to dine, Baghra,” Nikolai was saying. “I hope you’re feeling well.”

“Yes, much,” the old woman nodded. “My son being home has helped matters greatly.”

Just as she said this, two men entered the room, and Alina spun to face them, breath caught in her throat. Aleksander, and someone else with him. But Alina could hardly care about his presence when she locked eyes with Aleksander, and couldn’t tear them away. He seemed just as stunned to see her, more, even.

“Mr. Morozova!” Genya said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He blinked a few times before responding. “This is my mother’s home, after all. I should be the one asking you that question.” He was speaking to Genya, but his eyes were firmly on Alina.

“You know my son?” Baghra asked, scrutinizing the two girls once more.

“Yes, madam, we had the pleasure of meeting him at Netherfield. Several times,” Genya answered, when it became clear that Alina would not.

“Girl,” Baghra hollered, and Alina jumped, finally turning to her again. “Do you speak?”

Alina apologized quickly. “I was just surprised. When Mr. Morozova and his companions left Netherfield, I wasn’t sure we would be seeing him again.”

She didn’t dare look back at Aleksander when she called him by his last name. It would have been garish, to say Aleksander instead, but she did not wish to see the shuttered expression on his face when she said it. She knew exactly what it looked like; he’d showed it to her once before. In the drawing room, at the ball.

The other man accompanying Aleksander finally stepped forward. “Colonel Tolya Yul-Bataar. How do you do?” They all exchanged bows.

Nikolai came up behind Alina, and whispered so that only she could hear, “Is this uncomfortable or am I just imagining it?”

“You are very much grounded in reality,” Alina shot back, and he snickered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aleksander scowl.

Conversation was sparse and stilted between the group, silence mostly filled by Baghra and Nikolai chatting away about his life and accomplishments. When he mentioned that he had no romantic prospects, Alina and Aleksander unconsciously met each other’s eyes.

She was more uneasy around him than she had ever been before. The moment they’d shared at the ball was still jumbled up in her brain, like she could not decipher the true meaning behind anything that Aleksander had said. Still, she could not forget the pull she’d felt towards him. She felt it now, too, as they sat on opposite sides of the room, not speaking and barely even looking at one another. It was confusing, to say the least.

When a servant finally called for dinner, it was a relief. Alina moved to sit next to Genya, as Nikolai had taken the place closest to Baghra, but the Colonel got there first, apparently not even realizing that Alina desired to sit there. To avoid another strained interaction, she shuffled to the other side of the table before anyone could notice. This left her sitting next to Aleksander, and the side of her body that was nearest to him lit up with nerves. His fist clenched as she sat down.

“How are the Safins?” he asked her quietly, as Genya and the Colonel began to talk, and of course Nikolai and Baghra. She was glad for his prompt, if only so that she would not have to sit in silence for the entire meal.

It was a complicated answer, though. “Er… well, but somewhat estranged.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you not notice that she and David were found out, at Zoya’s ball?”

“I did,” he began. “I thought it might go over well. David has no station, but he is not a poor man. Zoya keeps him well taken care of.”

“Sadly, it didn’t,” Alina sighed. “And your leaving did not make it better.”

“My leaving?”

“All of you,” Alina fixed quickly. “When you all left.”

Aleksander was quiet as he sipped his drink. “You understand why, though?”

She softened immediately. “Of course. Your mother seems lively. She must be happy to have you back.”

“Happy that I’m waiting on her hand and foot, perhaps,” Aleksander grumbled. He looked about to say something else, but Baghra loudly addressed Alina, and her head snapped up.

“Do you play the pianoforte?” she was asking.

“No,” Alina answered honestly. She left such talents to Genya.

“Oh. Do you draw?”

“A little, ma'am, and very poorly.”

“Well, then what do you do?” Baghra demanded.

“I… read,” Alina offered weakly.

“Alina is well-versed in Shakespeare’s works,” Nikolai chimed in. “Our first conversation was about such. Her perspectives are very interesting.”

“And what good will knowledge of literature do you in the world?” Baghra scoffed.

Alina smiled tightly. “Not much good at all, I’d say.”

Aleksander froze next to her, and Genya and the Colonel quieted as well to hear what Baghra was going to say next. “Do you expect to spend the rest of your days reading?” she said it like an insult, like reading was something worth disgust. An odd sentiment from a woman who used to be a tutor. Baghra did seem unseasonably old-fashioned, though. It was more than likely she thought that only men should have such hobbies. Or perhaps she was just trying to devise a reaction from Alina.

“I expect to spend the rest of my days lonely and poor, so if reading might bring me some amount of joy, then I shall do it heartily,” Alina said combatively. If Baghra was this unpleasant when she was ill, Alina did not wish to ever see her in high spirits.

“Lonely and poor! You have resigned your fate, then? What kind of lady never marries?”

“One who’s not a lady,” Alina stated. She could tell that Genya was motioning for her to stop speaking. A rich woman like Baghra would not be happy to hear that an orphan had been let into her home, but Alina might get some satisfaction from revealing it. “I was taken in by the Safins when I was ten, but I am not their daughter. My parents were lowly artisans, and I nursed them right into their graves.”

She realized as soon as she’d said it that Aleksander did not know this about her. He might have assumed what happened, given that Mr. Safin had said the very first time they met that he’d taken her in at a young age, but hearing about their deaths from Alina’s mouth might be different.

Baghra, anyway, looked shocked to hear it. “You’re an orphan? Floating about in my home, pretending to be a lady?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever once pretended that,” Alina said, and Aleksander smirked at the words. She couldn’t help but exchange a small smile with him over the, quite frankly, understatement, that he knew better than anyone. Baghra noticed this little moment that transpired between them, and her eyes widened, astonished. But Aleksander seemed more pleased than anyone that Alina had elicited this reaction from his mother.

Dinner was much quieter after that.

They retired back to the sitting room after the meal, and Alina chose a seat in the corner of the room, where nobody might sit next to her. But Aleksander came to stand next to her seat, sipping coffee and saying nothing.

“Do you intend to frighten me?” Alina asked him finally.

“I am well enough acquainted with you, Alina, to know I cannot frighten you even should I wish it,” he said.

They did not have a chance to say much else to each other. The Colonel came over, smiling warmly, and said to Alina, “What was my friend like, in the country?”

“You truly wish to know?” Alina asked warily, though of course, she would not expose her early feelings towards Aleksander to one of his friends. When he nodded, she made a joke of it, instead. “Prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time I saw him, at the Assembly, we danced and he said little more than five words to me the entire night.”

“I was not familiar with you then,” Aleksander defended.

“True, though that argument holds up less when you remember the very purpose of a ballroom is to meet new people.”

The Colonel grinned at their repertoire, preparing to say something else, but was interrupted by Baghra calling for him. “Tolya! Come here!”

Aleksander sighed. “I do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before.”

“And I, with people I have contempt for,” Alina allowed. “It’s a lucky thing that we are better acquainted now, Aleksander.”

He shivered. The exact reaction she was hoping to elicit. She smiled into her coffee, and prayed that he did not notice.

* * *

The next day, Alina was left alone in the house as Nikolai went with Genya to post another letter, this time to her parents. It was more out of politeness than anything, simply saying that she was enjoying her time in Os Alta with her dear cousin and would be staying longer.

Alina enjoyed the quiet, relaxing in the drawing room and persuing _Henry VI Part I_. It was not one of her favorites, the influence of Thomas Nash too apparent for her tastes, but she was enjoying it anyway.

The doorbell rang, but she thought nothing of it, until a maid let someone into the drawing room where Alina was seated.

“Aleksander!” she said in surprise, sitting up and putting her book beside her. There was an awkward pause where he said nothing, simply standing and looking at her. “Please be seated. I’m afraid Genya and Nikolai aren’t here.”

He did not sit. He kept staring. “What was it like, when your parents were ill?” he said eventually.

This was not the question she’d been expecting, but still, she pondered it. “I must confess I don’t remember a time when they were not ill, so I’m not sure I’ll have the answer you’re looking for. But it was difficult. I was all they had. I took care of them.”

Aleksander nodded. “Were you sad, when they went with God? Or did it feel more like an inevitability?”

Alina thought seriously about the question. “I was sad, because they were my parents and I was a little girl and they were gone. But it was never not going to be that way. They were very sick.”

Finally, he sat, as stiff as a board. What his purpose here was she could not comprehend. But maybe he was just trying to find some comfort, with what was happening to his mother. Despite their many differences, Alina could in fact offer him that.

“Shall I call for some tea?” she asked.

“No. Thank you.”

More perplexing. As she thought about something to say, she could hear the front door open, Genya and Nikolai arriving back from the courier. Aleksander evidently heard it too. He jumped up at once, the most rigid movements she’d ever seen on him given his typically suave nature, and said, “Good day, Alina. It’s been a pleasure.”

As he left, he passed Genya and Nikolai in the hallway, who were not expecting to see him. They shot Alina twin confused looks, but she had no explanation to offer them. 

“He looked… off,” Genya said. “Whatever did you do to him?”

“I have no idea,” Alina shrugged. She resolved to put it out of her mind.

A distraction came in the form of two letters the next day. One for Genya, from the courier, which said that her letter to David had been delivered to his home, but he was traveling at present and would not see it until he returned. This left her in a sour mood, and even more so when Alina read her letter from Mal and could not dim her smile the rest of the day.

She had written to him on their second day in Os Alta, but was not sure if the letter would reach him, as he was off doing work for the militia, or if he would have time to respond if it did.

But he had written her back, and the world was alight with possibility again. It didn’t say much, other than he would not have an opportunity to come to see her for some time, but if she remained in Os Alta, he would make it a priority to do so at a point in the near future. He said he missed her. Alina was shining from the inside out, and her good mood could not be destroyed.

Not even by a sudden downpouring of rain on her morning walk, which forced her to run for shelter in an area she was unfamiliar with. She found a gazebo some ways away, and was sufficiently soaked by the time she reached it. Horrifyingly, she spotted another figure dressed in all black coming towards her, similarly drowned by the rain.

It was Aleksander. He, too, reached the gazebo, but did not look surprised to see her there.

“Are you following me?” Alina laughed lightheartedly.

He did not answer her. “Alina, I have struggled in vain but I can bear it no longer. The past months have been a torment…”

The smile dropped off her face. “I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

“I came to Lantsov’s home with the single object of seeing you. I had to see you,” he said desperately.

“Me?” Alina asked, bemused. Where he was going with this, she had no idea.

“When I saw you at Baghra’s, it was like I had been sleepwalking since the last moment we were together. I’ve fought against my better judgment, my family's expectation… The inferiority of your birth, my rank and circumstance, all those things… but I'm willing to put them aside, and ask you to end my agony.” The more he explained, the less Alina understood. Her head was spinning.

“Your agony?”

Aleksander did not wait another second. “I love you. Most ardently.”

Alina stared at him.

“Please do me the honor of accepting my hand.” It clearly pained him to say.

There were practically no words for how Alina was feeling. How was she feeling? Confused. Yes, more confused than anything. “Aleksander, I appreciate the struggle you have been through, and I am very sorry to have caused you pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done.”

“Unconsciously…” Aleksander gaped. He was the one at a loss for words, now. “Is this your reply?”

“Yes.”

“Are you laughing at me?” Aleksander was no longer confused. He was furious. He drew his eyebrows together, and his hands pulled into fists and then unclenched.

“No.”

“Are you rejecting me?”

“Were you truly expecting a different answer?” Alina wanted to laugh. This was hilarious. This was ridiculous. Aleksander had just proposed to her. No, he had just told her he loved her. It was… unfathomable.

“Yes,” Aleksander insisted. “Don’t you see that we would be a perfect match? You are my only equal, in anything. You challenge me. You intrigue me. We could make each other happy.”

“We have never once made each other _happy_ ,” Alina argued.

Evidently, this was no matter to Aleksander. “You told me that you would only marry for love. And I’m telling you that I love you.”

Something clicked. “No. No, you don’t love me. You want me to marry you, and you’re saying that so I might do it.”

He huffed out a frustrated laugh. “Why must you always think the worst of me?”

“I have my reasons, you know I have!” Alina defended.

“What reasons?” Aleksander shot back.

“Do you think that anything might tempt me to accept the man who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of his own most beloved friend?” Alina fired, still unwilling to let go of what Mal had told her about him, not when it was the final nail in Alina’s opinion of Aleksander. She might have been able to overlook his crass and insensitive persona, but purposefully ruining the relationship of those one holds closest to them is not a forgivable offense, at least not to Alina, who cherished her own friends so dearly.

Aleksander’s jaw twitched. “I’ve told you once before not to believe whatever lies that cockroach might tell you about me.”

“And you expect me to do as you say?” Alina cried. “Mal treats me as you never once have. I’ve come here, to Os Alta, to be with him. Not you. I don’t want to be with you. Not when you might choose to ruin my relationship with Nikolai or Genya next, just out of your own selfish desire to keep me to yourself.”

“Will you never allow me to explain myself?”

“You haven’t yet tried to, just attacked Mal’s character, as if he would purposefully lie to me with no other motive but to smear your name.”

“That’s exactly his motive,” Aleksander said fiercely. “He was playing Zoya, just as he is playing you now. He wanted her money. He saw other women behind her back, isolated her from her friends, manipulated her into staying with him. I only saw him for what he was, and helped her out of a situation that she might be trapped in forever.”

“Even if that were true,” Alina said, “What purpose could he possibly have with me? I have no money to steal, if that truly is his motivation like you say.”

“I confess I do not know,” Aleksander sighed. “But it cannot be anything good.”

“I can’t accept that,” Alina shook her head. “Just as I cannot accept the dozens of cruel comments you have made against my friends, against _me_ , from the very day I met you. And I surely do not accept your proposal.”

“So this is your opinion of me,” he sneered. “Thank you for explaining so fully. Perhaps these offenses might have been overlooked, if your pride had not been hurt--”

“My pride?!”

“Believe it or not, I do not say things just to hurt people, Alina. Especially not you. I have never tried to hurt you.”

She was silent, examining his face as he said this. He genuinely thought that what he was saying was the truth. Either he was delusional, or so conceited that he was blind to the effects of his own actions. “Well, you did,” she said finally. His jaw clenched painfully again. “You hurt me. From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”

Aleksander recoiled, as if she had slapped him. She might as well have. “Then forgive me, for taking up so much of your time.”

With that, he strode away, out into the rain, acting as if not a single drop was falling upon him. Alina was not as talented at pretending to be stoic. As soon as his back was turned and he was out of earshot, she collapsed onto the floor of the shoddy gazebo, and began to cry.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alina deals with the fallout of Aleksander's confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again if you took the time to read this story! I loved writing it, and I love Darklina, so I hope that you loved it too. Follow me on Twitter @billyrcsso if you want to see me rambling about Ben Barnes 24/7.

Alina didn’t have the courage to tell Genya or Nikolai what had happened between her and Aleksander, so she kept out of the house as much as she could over the next few days. Genya knew her better than anyone, and if she spent more than ten minutes with Alina, she would know that something was wrong. But Alina didn’t want to talk about it, because she herself did not know why she felt so upset about what had transpired. Aleksander had been abrasive, demanding, and dishonest. Alina did not like him, and she surely did not love him.

Yet still, she couldn’t stop replaying it in her head. There was something about how genuinely angry he seemed that she continued to defend Mal which stuck with her. Why would he be so insistent that what he was saying was the truth if he was lying? And what reason could he possibly have to lie?

Perhaps it was true. Perhaps Mal had treated Zoya dishonorably, and deserved for Aleksander to break them up. Maybe he did lie to Alina about what truly happened, to save his own reputation. But then, what could he want with her if not her affection? He could be hiding his past because he didn’t want Alina to think poorly of him. 

Her confusion turned to anger the more she thought about it. There was so much unknown, and Alina hated that she kept dwelling on it. She tried her best not to.

She explored the markets of Os Alta, meeting interesting people that she never would have out in the country. The culture of the area was so rich, and she could see why so many chose to live there. The scenery, too, was beautiful, and had Alina been any good at drawing, she might have tried to capture it. It would have been a futile effort if she did, though, because it would have been a mockery of the real thing.

On one afternoon as she perused some stalls in the streets, she ran into the Colonel, the friend of Aleksander’s whom she had dined with and Baghra’s. He recognized her immediately, and they chatted as they walked together, him telling her about how he took leave from the military to be with his twin sister. Tolya was quiet, but perpetually grinning, and spoke about his sister with adoration. He was not the kind of man that Alina could picture being close friends with Aleksander-- she aligned him much more with the likes of Zoya.

When Alina expressed that she thought Genya and his sister Tamar might get along, he invited them to dine at his home the next night, and she could think of no reason to refuse the offer. When she told Genya of it, the girl excitedly agreed, always desiring to meet new people.

Tolya’s house was quite modest, considering his status in the military, and had a well-kept garden that he commented was maintained by his sister. She came out to meet them, offering a similar bright smile to Tolya’s, and offered tea right away.

It was a pleasant evening overall, Alina’s assumption that Genya and Tamar would be fast friends proved correct, up until the moment that Tolya mentioned he had met Alina and Genya at Baghra’s dinner, where Aleksander had of course also been.

“Oh, Morozova! I haven’t seen him in a while,” Tamar said, mostly to herself. “How is he, Tolya?”

“I’m afraid I’ve seen him as sparsely as you,” Tolya admitted. “Alina would know more than I, surely.”

“I’m sorry?” she frowned. “Why would I?” Her heartbeat sped up.

Tolya looked a bit shocked at her reaction. “Oh, you just seemed quite well acquainted with one another at dinner. Are you not friends?”

“No,” Alina said immediately. “We’re not.” She avoided Genya’s eye, as she was the only one in the room who knew somewhat of the depth of Alina’s feelings towards Aleksander. Though that was not saying much.

Tamar, not noticing any awkwardness on Alina’s part, continued, “If he should marry and settle down, we might see more of him.”

“Yes, but I do not know when that will be. I do not know a lady who is good enough for him,” Tolya chuckled.

Alina’s chest seized. Aleksander had told her exactly that, when he had proposed. That he thought she was his only equal. The only one good enough for him, so to speak. It was an overwhelmingly romantic statement, and yet she could not allow herself to believe that he had been sincere. Surely a man as wealthy and well-traveled as he could not think of her that precious.

“What do you mean?” Genya asked, oblivious to Alina’s inner turmoil. Of course, she was under the impression that Alina hated him, and thus would have no reason to care about his marriage prospects.

“We’ve known Morozova since he was a boy. He was always a kind and generous person even then. Not everyone can see it, because he does not make a meal of it like a lot of young men nowadays. But he is the most sweet-tempered and kind-hearted man I have ever known,” Tamar rambled.

“Whoever he does marry shall be a lucky woman,” Tolya agreed.

It was like torture, sitting there. Alina fleeting thought that at this exact moment, she would rather be suffocated than listen to Tolya and Tamar wax poetic about Aleksander and his potential future wife any longer. She shifted in her seat.

“Really?” Genya scoffed playfully.

“He’s a most loyal companion,” Tolya confirmed. “To the both of us, and his dear friend Zoya Nazyalensky. Have you met her as well?”

It was Genya’s turn to look uncomfortable, after everything that had happened how it did with David. “Yes,” she answered.

“Well, you would never believe given how headstrong she is, but Zoya was once engaged,” Tolya began. Earth-shatteringly, Alina realized he was about to begin talking about Mal. “To a young man she grew up with. Deceitful, money-hungry thing, he was.”

Genya’s gaze shot toward Alina, who gulped. She shook her head minutely, hoping her sister would not say anything drastic.

“Morozova helped Zoya finally gather the courage to end things with him,” Tamar continued. “He saved her from a most impudent marriage. He does not speak of it at all today. But Zoya is forever grateful to him, I know that much.”

Evidently, it dawned on both Alina and Genya that Tolya and Tamar were outsiders to the situation, who would not have been swayed by Aleksander’s perspective of the events if he did not talk about them, or Mal’s if they had not ever met him. Genya looked very much like she wanted to climb across the table and hug Alina, if she could. Her sympathetic expression made it worse, though. Alina looked down in her lap to avoid seeing it anymore.

It was the truth, then. Aleksander had not been lying to her. Tears stung in her eyes, and her heart ached for Mal and the good times they had shared for one fleeting moment before she was infuriated. How dare he lie to her like that. And for no comprehensible reason, either. Just because he was a dastardly man, who did dastardly things, and had no idea how to respect a woman. Alina, weirdly, felt cheated. She had not been the one affected by what he’d done to Zoya, and still, she wanted to do something drastic, like push him into a river. If she did so, she might feel better.

By the time she clued back into the conversation, they had moved on from the topic of Mal and Aleksander completely. Better for Alina’s acting nonchalant, then. “Can you excuse me for a moment? I’m just going to get some air,” she said as calmly as she could, standing from the table.

“Would you like me to go with you?” Genya asked hurriedly, moving to stand as well.

“No, please,” Alina declined. She needed a moment alone, and she needed it now. “I’ll just be a second.”

Her chest loosened once she was out on the grounds. With no one around to hear, she heaved several deep breaths, attempting to make herself feel steadier on her feet.

“Alina?” a voice called carefully behind her, and her peace was immediately ruined.

She spun around to see exactly who she thought it was. She blinked at Aleksander. “What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“I came to see Tolya,” he explained. “I wasn’t aware that he had company, let alone that it would be you.”

Alina nodded slowly. Of all the coincidences in the entire world, she cursed at the saints for letting this one happen to her. She was not ready to see Aleksander today. Not after the last things they’d said to each other, not after what she’d just realized, not after she felt so foolish and unprepared. “It’s alright,” she said finally. The air was thick between them. He looked very much like he would rather be anywhere but there, standing in front of her. After all the things she’d said to him, she couldn’t blame him. “He invited me and Genya to meet his sister.”

Aleksander nodded. “Tamar is lovely.”

“She said she missed you,” Alina said, before she could think better of it. Then screamed internally. Why would she say such a thing? Oh, what he could read from that… For the first time, Alina wished Aleksander was much less intelligent than he was. “Tamar. Tamar said that.”

“Yes, I understood what you meant,” Aleksander said. If he were acting normally, he would have smirked at Alina’s nervousness, and accidental double entendre. But they were not in a state of normalcy. His face was purposefully blank, and he stood several feet away from her.

Alina nodded. Her brain wanted to be anywhere but here right now, but her feet would not allow her to move.

“Well, I should--”

“It’s probably best if I--”

They spoke at the exact same time, and stopped at the exact same time. If Alina thought that listening to Tolya and Tamar’s conversation earlier was torture, this was agony. This was Alina’s nightmare. “I should go back inside,” she started again. “But you’re welcome, I mean, you came here to see them.”

“No,” Aleksander said. “I should go. It was nice to see you.”

In some indescribable way, Alina did not want him to go. She wanted him to follow her inside, sit down, and stay for dinner. But she nodded politely instead. “You too, Mr. Morozova.”

It was out of her mouth before she’d even realized she’d said it. He had started to turn away, but froze. He looked back at her, lip curling fiercely, and sniffed like he was trying to hold something back. Alina wanted to fix it. She didn’t like that expression on his face. She had thought that maybe he wouldn’t want her to call him Aleksander anymore, now that she had rejected him so fiercely. Clearly, she was wrong to think so. She regretted saying it like she’d never regretted anything else, horrifyingly, madly.

He walked away, and she wanted to chase after him. But she didn’t. 

The day was full of alarming developments.

Nikolai accompanied her on her morning walk the next day. He had been carefully giving her space, just as Genya had, over the last week, but he told her that he needed to talk to her about something, and these walks were almost their tradition now. Alina hoped more than anything that he would have nothing to say about Aleksander, Mal, or that sort. She wasn’t sure if Genya had a chance to tell him last night when they’d arrived back from Tolya and Tamar’s, but Alina had gone right to bed sullenly, so it was possible. At least Genya had no idea of the horrible run-in she’d had with Aleksander.

“I received a letter from my parents yesterday evening, while you ladies were out,” Nikolai began hesitantly. Alina felt disgusted with herself the moment he said it. She had been so wrapped up in her own problems, so focused on her own issues, that she had barely given a thought to the demand Nikolai’s parents placed on him to find a wife. Now that he was back in Os Alta, rather than hiding out in the country, that demand would just grow stronger.

She was a terrible, terrible friend. But she could rectify this, and she would, starting right now. “What did it say?”

He sighed. “My father’s birthday is in two months. They’re having a big dinner, lots of acquaintances, and they expect me to bring a woman who has promised herself to me.”

“Oh, Nikolai,” Alina said softly. “I’m so sorry. Is it not at all possible for you to avoid such expectations?”

“No,” he laughed, like the very thought of displeasing his parents was ludicrous. “No, I must be engaged in two months’ time. How, I have no idea. To whom, even less.”

“How does one usually meet people in Os Alta?”

“I’ve met most of them already, if they’re active in society functions. The purpose of my going to visit the Safins was to be exposed to a new crowd. And I was heartily rejected by the one person I had some taste for,” Nikolai explained, and Alina winced at his last statement.

“I- I might’ve...” Alina started.

“No, no, don’t worry, I’m not proposing again,” Nikolai waved away whatever defense she was about to give. “I want to be in love, too. I’m just not sure how I’ll find such a woman with a time limit hanging over my head.”

“You may not,” Alina admitted. “But if I must, I shall pretend to be your fiance at that dinner, and when you find someone better, we can stage a horrible breakup that leaves your parents feeling very sour towards me and sympathetic to your new lady.”

He laughed heartily at this, and Alina grinned. She didn’t like to see him wrought with such emotions, when he was usually so at ease. “I think I shall hold you to that plan,” he said decidedly.

When they arrived back at the house, Genya sprinted to greet them, waving something in Alina’s face so rapidly she could not begin to comprehend what it was. “A letter from David, finally!” she cheered, and everything was explained immediately.

Determined to keep on her streak of being attentive towards her friends, Alina asked, “And what does it say?”

“He’s just arrived in town and is not fit to host, but apparently Morozova has offered the use of his home for a quaint dinner party where we might meet. The three of us, the two of them, and Zoya. Won’t that be special? Oh, I cannot wait to be reunited with him. I do hope that the time passed has not distanced his heart from me,” she rambled, expression changing from thrilled to morose rapidly.

“I doubt that very much, Genya, you are hard to forget,” Nikolai chimed in.

Alina’s head spun as it seemed to every time Aleksander’s name was mentioned nowadays. He had suggested hosting a dinner party just for David and Genya to meet again, and was allowing the use of his personal home as well. It was an uncommonly kind gesture. Alina was almost floored, but then again, Aleksander was always surprising her in new and unusual ways.

She would be seeing him, soon. After their last interaction, she wasn’t sure what that would look like, if his heart had hardened to her or if he was still as depressed as he appeared at Tolya’s. After calling him Morozova, something he clearly took offense to, especially when it was her saying it, she would understand if he was not feeling particularly charitable towards her. But she resolved that she would be soft, as non-combative as possible, show him that she was no longer incomprehensibly irritated by him.

If she got the chance, she would perhaps even apologize.

Still, there was the small matter that he told her he loved her. Had proposed marriage to her. She didn’t feel the same, she was sure, and though she might have been wrong to judge him in other ways and regretted doing so, that wasn’t something she saw her changing her mind about anytime soon. So where did they stand?

She hadn’t the faintest idea.

* * *

Alina could not help but compare Aleksander’s home to Baghra’s, as their carriage pulled up the drive. It was large, to be sure, but not as expensively ornate, as least from the outside. The grounds were expansive, with well-taken care of flowers and trees taller than Alina had ever seen. Little animals buzzed around, enjoying nature, and Alina thought it a very picturesque place to live. A morning walk through here would likely leave Alina feeling more serene than she had ever been before.

She was reminded of how wealthy Aleksander truly was when they stepped inside, however. There was a marble bust of his face in the front entryway-- she might have laughed at it if she wasn’t sure if it was meant to be comical or serious. It was delicately done, by a talented artist, but the very concept of paying to have a marble bust made up of oneself was hilarious to her.

It did look quite a bit like him, though. She half wanted to reach out and trace the side of its face, the way she would never dare to do in reality.

She was brought out of her reverie when Genya stormed past her, speeding down the grand hallway like a woman gone mad. David had appeared at the other end, clearly having heard their arrival, and he too was launching himself toward Genya. They met in the middle, and embraced so tightly two distinct body shapes could not be distinguished. Alina was happy to see it. Her sister deserved everything good in the world, and that included David.

They didn’t let go of each other for a long while. Nikolai had been overwhelmingly correct when he said that there was no way David’s feelings for Genya had lessened, though if that was ever actually in question, Alina didn’t think so.

Zoya came down the staircase to Nikolai and Alina’s left, calling out a hello as she descended. “Morozova will be down soon. He can’t decide what to wear, if you believe it.” She rolled her eyes, but her entire demeanor changed when she laid her eyes on Nikolai. “Hello again.”

“Hello,” he bowed.

Though Zoya didn’t say anything directly to Alina, she nodded her head at her, which was a gesture Alina hadn’t been expecting. She did it back, and muttered a hello. In truth, Alina liked Zoya fine, even if she was a bit conceited, but Alina was more intimidated by her than anything. She was gorgeous, to be sure, and was very close with Aleksander, which didn’t necessarily bother Alina-- why would it-- but did add more to the sense of mystery about her.

Her blatant attraction to Nikolai, however, and his complete unawareness of it, humanized her a bit. Alina thought it was funny.

When she looked over again, Alina saw that David and Genya had disappeared from where they were previously standing at the end of the hallway. Surely, they had gone off to spend some time alone and get reacquainted. Alina hoped that Aleksander would be coming downstairs soon, and she didn’t much desire to be left alone with Zoya for very long, especially not as she flirted shamelessly with Nikolai.

As if he had read her mind, Aleksander began to descend the staircase at that moment. He was dressed in all black like always, so she wasn’t exactly sure what Zoya meant when she’d said that he was trying to decide what to wear, but he looked stunning. It was like Alina was seeing him for the first time, now that she had had so many realizations about him. He was very handsome. Almost unrealistically so.

She unconsciously swept her hair back over her shoulders as he got closer. She was nervous to see him. But he barely looked at her as he came to join their group.

“Did David and Genya run off already?” Aleksander asked, looking around.

“Yes,” Alina answered before either of the other two could, forcing him to look at her. He seemed a bit dazed, almost like he hadn’t expected her to say anything or even be standing there. Alina met his eye straight on. “But one could hardly blame them.”

“You should have heard David, while we were in Fjerda,” Zoya sighed dramatically. “Inconsolable. He practically spoke in sonnets about her, writing letter after letter, hoping that one day she might respond.”

“He wrote her letters?” Alina asked confusedly, turning her gaze on Zoya and noticing out of the corner of her eye that Aleksander looked relieved when she did so. “But she didn’t get any. She was miserable, just waiting for him to get back so he would find the ones she sent to his house.”

“I don’t know why she didn’t get them,” Zoya shrugged. “Maybe Mr. Safin was throwing them away before she could see them.”

“Wait,” Alina laughed. “Oh, dear. He was sending them to our house?”

“Where else would he send them?” Zoya said, dumbfounded.

Nikolai and Alina exchanged a look, grinning. “We’ve been staying at Nikolai’s for weeks, now. I expect Mr. Safin is, in fact, the one who’s been receiving David’s letters.”

“Well, I hope he didn’t open them,” Zoya grimaced. “They were… mawkish.”

“Oh, to be in love,” Nikolai muttered, completely caught up in his own head. But Alina and Aleksander met eyes as soon as he said it-- unconsciously, perhaps. Aleksander broke the contact first, casting his gaze down at his shoes, and Alina felt distinctly terrible.

The rest of the night passed in much the same way. Genya and David did not return for some time, missing dinner entirely, which was an unpleasant affair. Zoya pestered Nikolai with questions, some of them overly obvious, while he answered distractedly, mostly focused on eating. Alina tried a few times to strike up a conversation with Aleksander, but he was quiet and downtrodden, choosing to ignore her entirely rather than give even feeble attempts at responding. It was completely out of character for him to act this way, but Alina knew she had brought it upon herself.

When David and Genya finally entered the sitting room that evening, as the four sat drinking tea quietly, she had an engagement ring on her finger and an uncontrollable smile on her face. David, on the other hand, looked sweaty and tired, like proposing to her had taken every ounce of strength from within him. Still, he seemed satisfied with himself, an arm slung around Genya’s shoulders good-naturedly.

Alina almost dropped her teacup when her eyes landed on the ring. It was modest, but shined like a beacon. Very fitting for Genya. “Oh my god,” Alina said immediately. “You two did not just disappear for three hours and come back engaged.”

“Sorry to deprive you of witnessing our reunion,” Genya joked, collapsing onto the couch, David following her down.

“Congratulations!” Nikolai cheered, grinning wildly.

Zoya, too, seemed happy for them, uncharacteristically. She was surprising Alina in more ways than one tonight. “Glad to see it,” she said. “I thought he might never do it. I had to endure hours of ring shopping and bemoaning about the best way to ask.”

“I wasn’t bemoaning!” David defended. “I just wanted it to be perfect.”

“And it was,” Genya affirmed, letting her head fall upon his shoulder. “But now the real work begins. We’ll be leaving for home in the morning, to get my father’s permission, and hopefully his promise to fund the wedding. I don’t know if he’ll approve, but if he doesn’t, we’ll find other means.”

Zoya rolled her eyes at this. “Don’t bother asking. I’ll pay for it. Just makes sure he likes David enough not to hunt him down during the ceremony.”

Silence dropped over the room. “You will?” David asked quietly. “Zoya, you don’t know what that means to us.”

“You can pay me back by having a long and happy life together,” she nodded casually. “And by making me godmother to your second child. I’m sure Alina is first in line.”

They all shared a laugh at this, but it was true. The sisterly bond between Genya and Alina was unbreakable. It was inevitable that she would be Aunt Alina to their children, and she would be immensely happy to be known as such. Genya gave her a soft smile, and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it tightly. It communicated everything they wouldn’t say in front of everyone. _Thank you_.

The room was almost alight with happiness. They all chattered about wedding plans, about the story of how David had proposed, about how they might get Mr. Safin to come around to the idea of his daughter being married off to a man who was not noble. But Alina realized with a start that Aleksander had not said anything during the entire exchange. She looked at him for the first time since Genya and David had come in-- she’d been too excited for them, too overwhelmed, to think of him in that moment.

Aleksander was staring at Genya and David, his eyes glassed over, unmoving and unemotional. He looked… longing. Yes, that was the best word for it. Like he would give anything to trade places with one of them right now.

And Alina thought that she might know why.

Later that night, while Nikolai prepared the carriage for them to head back and David and Genya said their goodbyes-- probably much too dramatically, given that they would see each other the next morning-- Alina seized her chance. She hurried back into the sitting room, where Aleksander was clearing away their teacups himself, despite the fact that he paid servants for that very purpose.

“Aleksander,” she said, causing him to turn around. But as he looked at her expectantly, she suddenly wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you, for this evening. For offering your home. I’m sure David and Genya are very grateful.”

He simply nodded. “I orchestrated their first dance together, it seemed fitting to orchestrate their engagement as well.”

Alina couldn’t help but break out into a smile, falling back into her natural pattern of teasing him. “So you finally admit that you did plan that? The first night?”

“Yes,” Aleksander said. “But I’ll admit that I mostly did it to serve myself. So that I may have had a dance with you.”

This left her speechless, and him pressing his lips together tightly, as if he wished he hadn’t said it. She didn’t think he would be so overt about his affection for her, after everything. And she still thought, maybe a little bit, born out of her own anxieties and low self-confidence, that he was being false about it. That he didn’t really love her. But this was proof, more than anything, that his feelings were genuine, unbelievably so, because he could hardly stand to look at her after saying such a thing. He was upset.

“I enjoyed that dance,” Alina said at last. “As have I all the ones we’ve shared.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Aleksander said, returning to his usual lofty persona. Almost in self-defense, to protect his feelings.

There was so much more to him under the surface than Alina had ever noticed before. Had ever bothered to notice, more like.

“It is true,” Alina insisted. “Just as it’s true that you have been a most gracious host.”

He stood up a little straighter when she said this, like he was a plant and the compliment was sunlight. “I have recently thought a great deal about how I act and appear to others.”

She was surprised that he would admit this so freely. That he was openly saying she’d had an effect on him. She found that she liked this new, brazen Aleksander. Yet at the same time, she missed his wit, his cheekiness. It made conversations with him perpetually interesting, even when they were verbally sparring. Or trading insults back and forth. “Well, it does you credit,” Alina smiled. “Even if I like that you have always kept me on my toes, so to speak.”

“Do you, now?” Aleksander asked carefully.

“Yes,” Alina said. “You were right, you know. That we’re each other’s only equals, I think.”

She hadn’t planned to say this, but it felt right when she did. Still, all her breath left her as she awaited his response.

He didn’t get a chance to say anything at all. Just as he was opening his mouth to speak, Nikolai entered the room, cheerily saying “We’re ready whenever you are, Alina.”

“Oh!” Alina jolted out of her reverie, tearing her eyes away from Aleksander. “Yes, right. I’m ready. We can go. Just give me a moment.”

Nikolai nodded, even though his face betrayed his confusion at her wanting to be alone in the room with Aleksander. He stepped out, probably just far enough away so that he would not be able to hear them, because that was Nikolai’s form of politeness.

“Well, goodbye, Aleksander,” she said, just to finish the conversation.

“You don’t have to call me that if you don’t want to,” he shook his head tersely.

“I want to,” she said firmly. “Last time, I… I thought that you might not have wanted me to. That you didn’t want to be so familiar with me anymore. But I do. Want to be.”

She said all this in a rush, and exhaled when she was done, nodding to herself at the somewhat satisfactory explanation. This time, she didn’t wait to see if he would respond. She turned around, feeling brave enough not to look back at him, and left to find Nikolai.

Overall, Alina thought she’d handled the night quite well. But the next morning brought an unwelcome surprise, as she was packing her and Genya’s things in the carriage for their journey back home. She was sad to go, having enjoyed her time in Os Alta so much despite the emotional ups and downs, but she knew she would be back soon, whether to see Nikolai or for wedding preparations.

She wasn’t watching, but she heard a horse come up the driveway, and expecting to see David, Alina moved away from the carriage with a smile, ready to greet him.

It wasn’t David. It was Mal, and he was grinning like a fool, sliding off his horse and coming straight over to Alina.

After the revelation Tolya and Tamar had brought on, Alina had stopped writing to Mal completely, hoping he would get the message. Stupid. Here he was, acting like nothing was wrong, and evidently about to give her a hug.

She side-stepped him harshly, the smile dropping off her face. “What are you doing here?” she asked harshly.

Mal was confused by her reaction, clearly, but barrelled on, keeping the smile plastered to his face. “I saved up my days off, so that I could come and see you.”

“Well, I don’t want you here. Sorry,” Alina shrugged. Obviously, she should have written a clear and concise letter telling him exactly what she thought about him in order to get him to stay away. Still, she couldn’t find any sympathy for him and the fact that he’d traveled here to see her.

“What?” Mal’s dumb smile was finally gone, replaced by genuine confusion.

Alina sighed. She was going to have to explain, even if she didn’t want to, and didn’t think she owed him that, either. But something told her that he would be relentless, if she wasn’t straightforward right then. “I found out. About what you did to Zoya. It’s sickening, and you lied to me. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

Mal scoffed, like she was being completely ridiculous. “Have you been talking to Morozova? What untrue, half-cooked-up story did he tell you? I didn’t do anything to Zoya. He ruined me.”

“No, you ruined yourself,” Alina said sternly. “He was the one who was honest with me. Not you.”

“But you hate him!” Mal cried. If Genya and Nikolai hadn’t heard anything from inside yet, they surely did now. Alina didn’t look forward to their questions.

“No, I don’t,” Alina replied, without any hesitation. It was true, too. She didn’t hate Aleksander, not anymore, and she wasn’t actually sure she ever had. She was just blinded by his rough exterior, but she knew him better, now. “At least he cared for me enough to warn me off you.”

She was being a bit facetious, of course. Aleksander had been motivated more by jealousy than anything else, surely. Still, he had been honest, where Mal had not.

“He doesn’t care for you at all,” Mal said determinedly. “I do.”

“And why do you?” Alina couldn’t help but ask. Maybe his coming here was a blessing in disguise, and she could get some closure about the whole nasty situation. “Don’t say you truly have feelings for me. What is it? I have no money, no family, so what do you have to gain? Am I just naive enough to fall for your game?”

“You don’t… What do you mean, you don’t have money? I thought the Safins…” Mal trailed off, looking horrified.

And Alina was, too. “That was really all? You thought the Safins had given me an inheritance, and you were playing me to get it?” she laughed, hysterically. He was a joke. He was a lowlife. And she regretted that she had ever given him a second of her attention.

“I wasn’t playing you,” Mal feebly defended. But Alina could tell his heart wasn’t in it any longer, because he realized that Alina had nothing he could steal from her. There was no point in trying to save her opinion of him. He wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. Her mind was strictly made up.

“Leave,” Alina demanded. “Don’t come back, don’t write to me, and if I ever hear of you again, I won’t hesitate to tell everyone I know what a pathetic, manipulative cheat you are.”

Apparently, that did the trick. Mal didn’t say another word. He hauled himself back up onto his horse, and rode away. Alina would never see him again. The headache was over.

“Who was that?” Nikolai called from the doorway. He could just barely see Mal’s back at the end of the driveway, about to disappear into the trees forever.

“No one,” Alina said, and meant it.

* * *

The moment where David asked Mr. Safin’s permission for his only daughter’s hand in marriage was tense for everyone involved. Genya was staring him dead in the eye, daring him to refuse, Mrs. Safin looked about to pass out in anticipation, and Alina was busy praying to every saint she knew that Mr. Safin might show some compassion for Genya, and agree.

But then something funny happened. Mr. Safin reached into his desk, and pulled out a pile of thick envelopes, all addressed to Genya, all from David. They’d clearly been opened, seals torn up, and read multiple times.

“It’s clear to me that you love my daughter exactly as you should,” Mr. Safin said. “You have my permission.”

The engagement party was a lively affair. They held it in Os Alta, inviting all their acquaintances, and Zoya had offered to be the benefactor for the soiree, meaning there was a ten-piece band, tables upon tables of food, and a champagne glass in every hand. Mrs. Safin was overcome with emotion, telling each person who passed by her how proud she was of her daughter, and how excited she was to be a grandmother. Genya looked quite like she wanted her mother to shut up, but was too overcome with pure joy to do anything of the sort. She and David danced for hours, sharing a dozen private smiles, whispering sweet nothings to each other and not leaving the other’s arms all night.

Nikolai and Zoya, too, shared a dance, and seemed to be talking animatedly every time Alina looked over at them. She wondered what that would amount to, if anything. She was still prepared and willing to fool Nikolai’s parents, if it came to that. She actually thought she might find some pleasure in doing so, after all the torture and anguish they’d put their son through. She could hardly be too upset, though. She and Nikolai might never have become such dear friends if he hadn’t proposed to her that day, thanks to his parent’s demands. In some odd way, Alina was grateful to them.

As much as she enjoyed walking about the room to see what everyone else was doing, though, Alina surprisingly spent much of the night at Aleksander’s side. He had come up to her, when she’d first arrived, and said “Zoya’s busy, and I think you might be the only other tolerable person here.”

She’d laughed at him. “Tolerable? Have I been downgraded?” she teased.

He rolled his eyes at her, thankfully not offended by the jab. “Ward off all Fjerdans from my company and I’ll think about restoring you to your previous status.”

“Ward off all Fjerdans? Why?” she giggled.

His face sneered at the very thought. “Not only are they an immensely boring people, they are also insufferably conceited.”

“Ah,” Alina pretended to be serious. “Like someone else I know.”

He had glared at her, but she kept laughing. It was a nice moment. They were able to speak frankly and be quick-witted with each other like they used to be, minus any of the hurt behind the words. And it was sweet, Alina thought, that Aleksander had wanted to talk to her, and not anybody else. 

Throughout the party, they both left to speak with other people, but always seemed to circle back to each other, like magnets. They had many conversations just like that first one, exchanging jokes and little personal details about themselves. It felt like what that first night they’d met might have been, had Aleksander not been so stern and Alina not so quick to judge him. 

They’d both made mistakes. But if those mistakes had built up their relationship to what it was now, then Alina wouldn’t trade them for anything, because it was quite possibly the best night of her life. Not only were they celebrating the future wedding of her sister and a man who was perfect for her, surrounded by friends and family that Alina was so lucky to have found, but Aleksander’s presence kept her entertained and carefree, when so often at these functions she felt like an outsider.

The smile didn’t leave her face all night, even when their conversation turned a bit more serious.

“I’m sorry,” Aleksander had said, out of nowhere, as Alina bit into a sandwich. They’d sneaked off to the corner of the room to eat, but Aleksander had yet to touch his plate. “For being jealous, before. And cruel. I was cruel, about your friends, and I shouldn’t have been. So I apologize.”

Alina took this in. Even though she had decided to put those events in the past, and she didn’t expect him to ever willingly apologize for them, it was still good to hear it. It felt like the final chapter in their time as arch enemies. Not that Aleksander had ever considered Alina his enemy-- it was like he’d told her. He saw her as an equal. “You don’t have to say that. But I do appreciate it.”

He nodded, and though his “thank you” was muttered quietly as he reached for his sandwich, Alina could tell that it meant everything to him. She didn’t want him to feel like their conflicts had all been his fault, though. So she threw him a bone. “It turns out,” she started, “that you were right. About Mal. About how he’s a good-for-nothing, money-hungry liar. So I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you when you told me that.”

Aleksander’s eyes were wide. Alina realized that up until now, he might have thought that she was still interested in Mal, still pursuing him. It was definitely a good thing that she said it, then. “I could’ve said it more gently,” he admitted. “But I’m glad you saw the truth.”

“You always have good intentions, don’t you?” Alina asked him. “Even when you do things wrong, it’s because you’re motivated by what you think is right.” It described Aleksander exactly. Honorable purpose, poor execution. 

“And you’re the opposite,” Aleksander said, elaborating when Alina shot him a confused look. “You’re not always right, but you act as if you are, and you change course when someone corrects you.”

It seemed that with all this time she’d spent getting to know Aleksander, understanding him, he’d begun to see her for who she was, too.

“I guess we balance each other out, then,” Alina said.

“We do,” Aleksander agreed.

As she laid in bed that night, back at home after a long carriage ride, Alina couldn’t get the conversation out of her head. She’d thought that Aleksander was beginning to understand her, when he said what he did-- but he always understood her, didn’t he? When he’d proposed, he’d said as much. _You are my equal_. At the time, she hadn’t realized the true depth of what he’d meant.

But he had always seen her, for exactly what she was. And he wanted her anyway.

She thought, for the first time, although it felt so natural she was sure it had been in her subconscious the entire time, that she wanted him, as well.

It wasn’t a startling revelation, like Mal had been. It made perfect sense. Of course she wanted him. She’d been so, so daft, but every bone and every nerve in her body wanted him, and hoped that she hadn’t ruined things with him, hoped that he still wanted her too. Hoped that he still loved her.

It was a powerful thing, but she could sense it through her entire body, the strength of her feelings towards Aleksander. This wasn’t just wanting. It was need. It was love.

Just as she was about to get up to creep into Genya’s room, to wake her and ask desperately for advice on how she might confess to Aleksander, a loud knock sounded downstairs. If Alina hadn’t been restless, it would have startled her right out of sleep.

“Who on earth is that?” Alina heard Genya yell from her room. So it wasn’t just her that had heard it. She groaned, and pulled herself out of bed, joining Genya in the hallway as Mr. and Mrs. Safin exited their own room, grumbling and heading downstairs to greet whoever it was. “Do you think it could be David?” Genya asked, bewildered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“I have no idea,” Alina said. Well, she may as well seize this opportunity. She had been about to go wake up Genya to discuss her little Aleksander problem, after all. “Genya, I need to--”

“Alina!” Mr. Safin’s voice hollered from the floor below. “It’s for you!”

Her chest lurched. _Aleksander?_ was her first thought, but that would be ridiculous. He had no reason to come and see her, especially not at this hour. But, well… who else could it be? Nikolai, perhaps? If it was, however, Mr. Safin would have just said so.

After shooting a wary look at Genya and grabbing a sweater to pull over her nightgown, Alina stomped downstairs. With a start, she saw Baghra standing in the entryway, the absolute last person that might have crossed Alina’s mind to stop by for a midnight visit.

“Alina, this is Miss Baghra Morozova, she says she’d like to speak with you,” Mr. Safin explained slowly, not truly understanding it himself. He had never met Baghra, and did not know that Alina had, either. Alina almost wished she hadn’t. It had been a very unpleasant experience, on the whole.

With her cane, Baghra pointed to the sitting room. “Alone. Move, girl,” she said, when Alina had evidently stood there dumbfounded for too long.

When Baghra had closed the door behind them, and they’d taken opposite seats on the couches, Alina finally allowed herself to wonder what exactly Baghra could be doing there. How she even got Alina’s address was unknown.

“You can be at no loss, girl, to understand why I am here,” Baghra said, but was quite wrong. Alina, in fact, had no ideas, not even far-fetched ones.

“Indeed you are mistaken. I cannot account for this honor at all,” Alina said cautiously.

Baghra scoffed. “Girl, I warn you, I am not to be trifled with. A report of a most alarming nature has reached me that you intend to be united with my son.”

Alina blinked, not comprehending. Was Baghra a mind reader? Of course not. And though Alina would certainly like to be married to Aleksander, the word _intended_ seemed to imply that they were already engaged. Which was not only untrue, but tugged at Alina’s heart resolutely due to its untrueness.

Baghra continued, not waiting for a reply. “I know this to be a scandalous falsehood, though not wishing to injure him by supposing it possible, I instantly set off to make my sentiments known.”

Alina slowly came back to the reality of what Baghra was accusing her. “If you believed it impossible, I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far,” she said, gearing up for a fight.

Distantly, Alina wondered how she and Aleksander might ever be together, if his mother detested her so. But then again, Aleksander never did seem to have much of a liking for Baghra either, no matter how well he took care of her. 

“To hear it contradicted, girl!” Baghra said, like Alina was an idiot.

“I’m not sure what report you would like me to contradict,” Alina said, deliberately obtuse.

“Do you pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been industriously circulated by yourself?” Baghra demanded.

“I have never heard of it.” It was the truth, and yet it felt like she was lording something over Baghra’s head, teasing her. The situation might have been funny, if it was not so nonsensical.

“And can you declare there is no foundation for it?”

“I’m not sure I want to, or have to, answer that question.”

“Stupid girl. Has my son made you an offer of marriage?” Her voice was rising, now. She was angry. Alina did not doubt that Genya and Mrs. Safin were listening in at the door, hoping to hear what was going on, and that would probably be the first sentence they could hear clearly. Alina did not look forward to providing the context for this conversation.

“You declared it to be impossible, ma’am,” Alina said evasively, keeping her calm.

“Let me be understood. He will be engaged to a woman of high birth, of proper standing. Not an orphan girl, as you so charmingly call yourself. Now, what have you to say?”

“If that is the case,” Alina said carefully, “you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me.”

“Oh, obstinate girl! Tell me once and for all, are you engaged to him?” The veins in Baghra’s head were pulsing with anger. Alina briefly pondered if it was healthy for an older and very ill woman to get so caught up in emotion like this. It couldn’t be helpful, at least.

“I am not,” Alina confirmed. _I wish I was._

“And will you promise never to enter into such an engagement?” Baghra pushed.

“I will not,” Alina shot back, finding her voice once more. She would not allow herself to be treated like this. “And I certainly never shall.”

Strangely, Baghra calmed at these words, though they should have done the opposite. In fact, she began to laugh. “Oh, my. You love him, don’t you? And you truly believe that he loves you?”

Alina did not answer, but she didn’t have to. It must have been written all over her face.

“You genuinely believe that you and my son might have a life together? A happy one? Let me tell you this, then, girl. One morning, you will wake up and realize that you have made a horrible mistake, a mess. You will never belong in his world, and he will come to realize that, and he will resent you for it. He will cheat, and he will lie, and he will wish that you had never met. Love is easily given, but easily taken away. You will be miserable together, and he will know that he should have listened to me.”

Baghra’s speech cut Alina like knives. It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be true, not with the way she and Aleksander felt for each other. He had never expressed any disdain for her social standing, either, in fact, he outrightly said it did not matter to him. Equals, as it were.

Yet something that she said pulled at Alina’s memories. _Love is easily given and taken away._ Aleksander said that to her, once. Clearly, his mother had more influence on his emotions and opinions than he allowed himself to show. Alina couldn’t imagine growing up with a woman like this, a woman so stern and critical that the most basic feeling of love was seen as a weakness. It helped Alina to see Aleksander even better, now, and the way that he held back his emotions so tightly, only revealing them when he thought he could control them, or know they would be reciprocated in turn. She thought that she appreciated him even more. Because he was sensitive, and perceptive, and allowed himself to feel those emotions for her. Her.

Alina did not say any of this to Baghra, of course. She simply narrowed her eyes and announced, “You have insulted me in every possible way and can now have nothing further to say. I must ask you to leave immediately. Good night.”

Baghra scowled deeply, but stood. “I have never been thus treated in my entire life.”

When she opened the door to storm out, Genya and Mrs. Safin jumped away like they had been scalded. Alina had been correct in assuming that they were listening. Baghra huffed in frustration upon seeing them, but blessedly did not say anything, and continued until she was out the front door and gone from the house.

“What on earth is going on?” Mrs. Safin asked, as soon as the sounds of Baghra’s carriage pulling away could be heard.

“Give us a moment, please. And don’t listen,” Genya told her mother strictly, shutting the door to the room once again, and quickly coming to put her arms around Alina. “Oh, that sounded horrible. I can’t believe she came here. Why _did_ she come here?”

“Genya,” Alina started, pulling her sister’s arms tighter around her for comfort. “I have to tell you something.”

“Anything.”

Alina sighed. “Aleksander proposed to me, two months ago.”

“Who?”

“Morozova.”

Genya’s gasp was immediate. “Was that why you were so upset, in Os Alta? Because he proposed, and you didn’t want him to?”

“No. Well, yes. I didn’t want him to, then. I said no. We fought. But… it affected me in a way I can’t explain. I was so hurt by it. And in the weeks since, well, I’ve… I’ve come to realize that I do love him. And I want to be with him.” It felt so good to say it aloud. It just made her more sure of how she felt, and how desperate she was to get him back.

Genya was quiet, taking this in. “We could go tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry?” Alina questioned, puzzled.

“To Os Alta. We could go tomorrow. I’d like to see David, anyway, and I’m sure Nikolai will let us stay. You can go see him. Tell him how you feel,” Genya said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Maybe it was. Alina found herself tearing up, overcome with her love for Aleksander, and her love for her sister, who was endlessly supportive and always in for a scheme.

“Yes,” Alina whispered. “Yes, I’d like that. More than anything.”

“It’s settled, then,” Genya nodded. “But get some rest, for now. I’m sure that conversation with Baghra could not have been fun.”

She was right. Alina should sleep, put the entire horrible ordeal to bed with her, but she found that she simply could not. Thoughts of Aleksander, of Baghra, of her own life and everything she had gone through, from being orphaned, to her first years with the Safins, to the woman she was now, it all flew through her head and she simply couldn’t get it to quiet down.

Just as the sun began to peek over the horizon in the early morning, Alina sighed as accepted that she would have a completely sleepless night. She changed into a casual dress, tied her boots, and tramped out into the fields for a very early morning walk. The grass was soaked with dew, and a light fog persisted despite the sun growing stronger, but Alina was at peace, as she always was during these times.

She lost track of her thoughts, her path, and the time. But as the mist began to lift, she saw a shadowy figure coming towards her. A figure that looked a lot like Aleksander.

Realizing with a start that it _was_ him, streaking across the field determinedly, Alina quickly ran through her hair with her fingers, hoping to brush out some of the frizziness from the humidity. It was probably a futile effort, but she couldn’t help it. She had just seen Aleksander last night, but she knew the depth of her feelings for him now, and the early hour shimmered with possibility. As soon as he came in front of her she might confess to him. She wasn’t entirely sure.

He came into focus as he got closer, unshaven, red-eyed, and slightly wild looking. If he had come all the way from Os Alta this morning, Alina could see why. Actually… Why had he come all this way?

“My mother,” was the first thing he said, as he stepped in front of her, his face conflicted.

“Yes, she was here,” Alina confirmed. She was sure she was staring at him like she never had before. Like a woman seeing the sun for the first time.

“How can I make amends for such behavior?” Aleksander sighed.

“After all you’ve done for me, and for Genya and David, it is I who should be making amends,” Alina brushed off. She wanted this moment to be perfect. She didn’t want him apologizing for anything that wasn’t his fault, and she certainly didn’t want him to bring up Baghra again.

Aleksander took a half step closer, and Alina matched him. He sucked in a deep breath. “You must know… surely you must know why.” His voice was lowered, like they were in a bubble that might pop if he disturbed it too greatly. “I have heard of what you said to Baghra last night, and it has taught me to hope as I had scarcely allowed myself before. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me forever.”

Tears collected in Alina’s eyes. She stepped closer, and without overthinking it, without worrying about how he would react or how it could come off, she brought both her hands up and grabbed onto his biceps, pulling him closer to her, too. They were chest to chest, now, and she breathed heavily as he stared down at her with a heavy look. She was once again struck by how dark his eyes were, how she felt absorbed by them.

Carefully, one of Aleksander’s hands came up to cup her cheek, as light as if she was made of glass. He gulped. “If, however, your feelings have changed…”

She nodded, rapidly, embarrassingly. A laugh caught in her throat. Slowly, a smile was beginning to spread across Aleksander’s face, more honest than she had ever seen, more full of delight than she could have expected. She was sure that a much more foolish grin was plastered on her face, but he was staring at her like she was everything, like she was all the good in the world personified. Alina felt blessed by the Saints that anyone might look at her like that, but this man, this man that she loved so wholly, it was like a promise from him. That he would never falter. That he would find her this brilliant and this beautiful forever.

“I would have to tell you… you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love and love and love you. And never wish to be parted from you from this day on,” Aleksander finished, his voice taut with emotion and longing. Alina’s heart was singing, and so might have been all the birds in the sky, but she would not have noticed, for how focused she was on the man before her.

“Then do not part from me, Aleksander,” she said, hushed. “I love you.”

He leaned forward, then, and kissed her. It was Alina’s first kiss, and she knew already that no other could ever measure up from the moment that his lips pressed forcefully onto hers. His hand that had been on her cheek moved to the back of her head, angling her up to meet him, his other hand clutching at the small of her back, pulling her tighter to him. Alina’s body was on fire, the places where he was touching her burning with desire, and she wound her arms around his neck so that he may never release her.

When he pulled back, he was gasping for breath, not from the duration of the kiss, which had been chaste, but from sheer need. Alina refused to let him go, burying her head into the crook of his neck, hiding her uncontrollable smile. Aleksander pressed another kiss to the top of her head, cradling her in the circle of his arms tightly.

“Dare I ask again?” he said in a rush, laughing. It was a beautiful sound. It was Alina’s favorite sound.

“I’ll marry you,” she exhaled, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips. “I’ll marry you a hundred times, in a hundred different places, and I will even invite your mother, for that is how much I love you so.”

“Even her presence will not be able to spoil the complete elation I know I will feel when I can call you my wife,” Aleksander said, shaking his head.

Alina looked up at him sharply, beaming from ear to ear. “Your wife,” she said quietly.

He brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yes. Alina Morozova. My wife.”

They came back to the house hand in hand, and she pulled him right into the kitchen, where the Safins all sat cluelessly, munching on scones and reading the morning paper. Genya was the first to look up, and gasped, her hand smacking over her open mouth as her eyes laid on Alina and Aleksander’s intertwined fingers. Alina winked at her.

“Mr. Safin,” Aleksander said, announcing his presence. “I have something to ask you.”

Mrs. Safin might have collapsed in shock, had she not already been sitting, when she saw them standing there together. “My god,” she said under her breath. 

“Mr. Morozova,” Mr. Safin blinked. “I-- yes, what is it?”

“I have asked for Alina’s hand in marriage, and she has accepted. But we both agreed that it would be courteous, as you are the man who helped raise her, to ask for your blessing,” Aleksander explained.

“Please,” Alina added.

“I’m dreaming,” Mrs. Safin muttered. “Saints, let me never wake up.”

How awkward it all was. Mr. and Mrs. Safin, who had once tried to set up Aleksander and Genya, and who never knew of his and Alina’s connection, must have been floored by this turn of events. It was a shock at the very fact that a man as rich as he would take someone like her. Alina thought they were handling it quite well, all things considered.

Mr. Safin shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, but then said, “Yes. Well, yes, I don’t suppose there is any reason to object, if you have already posed the question.”

Alina breathed out in relief, and she felt Aleksander’s hand squeeze hers tighter. Mr. Safin’s approval had meant more to her than she would admit. He had always treated her kindly, as one of his own, and she respected him deeply. Just as she had hoped he would accept David for Genya, she hoped he would allow the oddity of the situation to wash over him, and accept Aleksander for Alina. Which he had, with minimal shock or hesitation. It was almost easy.

With a squeal, Genya jumped up from the table and threw her arms around Alina. “It’s perfect,” she gasped, pulling away only to hug Aleksander just the same, which he shirked back from in surprise, though at least he did not push her off. “We’ll both be married, we’ll move to Os Alta, we’ll see each other all the time! We’ll invite Zoya and Nikolai over for tea every Sunday, and one day our children will fall in love too.”

Alina had laughed this off, privately thinking that such talk of children might scare Aleksander off. But late that night, as the two of them sat together in front of the lake in Alina’s usual spot, her back pressed against his chest and his arms and legs wrapped around her comfortably, he was the one to bring it up.

“I think we’ll have two daughters,” Aleksander said confidently. “We’ll name the first after your mother, and Genya will be the godmother. The second we’ll name Alina, and Zoya will be the godmother, but secretly we shall take very good care of ourselves so that no instance comes to pass where little Alina would have to go live with Zoya, because in truth she can hardly keep a plant alive.”

Alina cackled at this idea. “You want to have two daughters, no sons, and you want to name one after me? I truly did have you mistaken, Aleksander, you’re sentimental, really.”

“You want to have a son?” Aleksander asked idly.

Alina thought about it seriously for a moment. It was far too early to talk of children, of course, but that didn’t mean discussing it wasn’t nice. Thinking about their future like that, the rest of their lives sprawling before them, was euphoric. Alina supposed she could die right now and be blissfully happy in the afterlife forever, as long as she had shared this moment with Aleksander. “I would like to have many children, I think. Some our own, but some adopted. To give them a home the way I was given. To give them the love they deserve.”

Aleksander was silent after she said this for so long that she turned around in his arms to face him. But he was smiling softly at her, and pulled her in for a small kiss which she accepted happily. “You are extraordinary,” he said simply. “And I cannot fathom a moment in my life before me where I will not be perfectly and incandescently happy.”

It was a sentiment that Alina shared, and she leaned in to initiate a kiss this time, to show it. But she could not help but to tease him, for it was her nature. “I’m not sure how happy you will be when I invite Nikolai to visit every four days,” she commented, prompting an immediate groan from him that startled a laugh out of her.

“No, we’ll be taking care of that immediately,” Aleksander said decidedly. “I’ll be setting him up with Zoya. She speaks about him far too much for her attraction to be only surface-level.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, Alina leaned back into his arms, lifting his knuckles to her lips and pressing dozens of little kisses along them. “I know you would never admit it, but you’re a secret matchmaker. You want everyone in your life to be satisfied, and you will do anything to make it so.”

“That’s why I shall be a good husband,” Aleksander said.

And he was. Sixty years passed, and still, he was.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, follow me on Twitter @billyrcsso! I do a lot of yelling about Ben Barnes and Darklina over there. Also, don't be afraid to leave a comment and tell me what you thought. :)


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